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BUFFALO BILL---COL. WILLIAM F. CODY 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

BUFFALO BILL 

(COLONEL W. F. CODY) 



ILLUSTRATED BY 

N. C. WYETH . 




NEW YORK 



@iopolifan Book @poration 



1920 



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Copyright, 1920, by 
COSMOPOLITAN BOOK CORPORATION 



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AU rights reserved, including thai of translation 
into foreign languages, including the Scandinavian 



APR 27 1920 • 



gfa ^utnn & gobtn Company 

BOOK MANUFACTURERS 
RAHWAY NEW JERSEY 



©CI.A565699 



■> 



Dedicated 

to 

My Nepbew and Niece, 

George Cody Goodman, 

Anna Bond Goodman, 

and family. 



/ 
i 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Buffalo Bill— Col. William F. Cody . . Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

He Shoved a Pistol in the Man's Face and Said: 
''I'm Calling the Hand That's in Your Hat" . 55 

Chief Santanta Passed the Peace-Pipe to General 
Sherman and Said : " My Great White Brothers ' ' 87 

Winning My Name— '' Buff alo Bill" . . .125 

It Was No Time for Argument. I Fired and 
Killed Him 175 

Pursued by Fifteen Bloodthirsty Indians, I Had 
a Running Fight of Eleven Miles . . .209 

A Shower of Arrows Rained on Our Dead 
Horses from the Closing Circle of Red-Men . 283 

Stage-Coach Driving Was Full of Hair-Raising 
Adventures 322 



CHAPTER I 

I AM about to take the back-trail through the Old 
West— the West that I knew and loved. All my 
life it has been a pleasure to show its beauties, 
its marvels and its possibilities to those who, 
under my guidance, saw it for the first time. 

Now, going back over the ground, looking at it 
through the eyes of memory, it will be a still 
greater pleasure to take with me the many readers 
of this book. And if, in following me through 
some of the exciting scenes of the old days, meet- 
ing some of the brave men who made its stirring 
history, and listening to my camp-fire tales of the 
buffalo, the Indian, the stage-coach and the pony- 
express, their interest in this vast land of my 
youth should be awakened, I should feel richly 
repaid. 

The Indian, tamed, educated and inspired with 
a taste for white collars and moving-pictures, is 
as numerous as ever, but not so picturesque. On 
the little tracts of his great inheritance allotted 
him by civilization he is working out his own 
manifest destiny. 

The buffalo has gone. Gone also is the stage- 
coach whose progress his pilgrimages often used 
to interrupt. Gone is the pony express, whose 
marvelous efficiency could compete with the wind, 
but not with the harnessed lightning flashed over 



2 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

the telegraph wires. Gone are the very bone- 
gatherers who laboriously collected the bleaching 
relics of the great herds that once dotted the 
prairies. 

But the West of the old times, with its strong 
characters, its stem battles and its tremendous 
stretches of loneliness, can never be blotted from 
my mind. Nor can it, I hope, be blotted from the 
memory of the American people, to whom it has 
now become a priceless possession. 

It has been my privilege to spend my working 
years on the frontier. I have known and served 
with commanders like Sherman, Sheridan, Miles, 
Custer and A. A. Carr — men who would be leaders 
in any army in any age. I have known and helped 
to fight with many of the most notable of the 
Indian warriors. 

Frontiersmen good and bad, gunmen as well as 
inspired prophets of the future, have been my 
camp companions. Thus, I know the country of 
which I am about to write as few men now living 
have known it. 

Eecently, in the hope of giving permanent form 
to the history of the Plains, I staged many 
of the Indian battles for the films. Through 
the courtesy of the War and Interior Depart- 
ments I had the help of the soldiers and the 
Indians. 

Now that this work has been done I am again 
in the saddle and at your service for what I trust 
will be a pleasant and perhaps instructive journey 
over the old trails. We shall omit the hazards 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 3 

and the hardships, but often we shall leave the 
iron roads over which the Pullman rolls and, back 
in the hills, see the painted Indians winding up 
the draws, or watch the more savage Mormon 
Danites swoop down on the wagon-train. In my 
later years I have brought the West to the East 
— ^under a tent. Now I hope to bring the people 
of the East and of the New West to the Old West, 
and possibly here and there to supply new ma- 
terial for history. 

I shall try to vary the journey, for frequent 
changes of scenes are grateful to travelers. I 
shall show you some of the humors as well as the 
excitements of the frontier. And our last halting- 
place will be at sunrise — the sunrise of the New 
West, with its waving grain-fields, fenced flocks 
and splendid cities, drawing upon the mountains 
for the water to make it fertile, and upon the 
whole world for men to make it rich. 

I was born on a farm near Leclair, Scott 
County, Iowa, February 26, 1846. My father, 
Isaac Cody, had emigrated to what was then a 
frontier State. He and his people, as well as my 
mother, had all dwelt in Ohio. I remember that 
there were Indians all about us, looking savage 
enough as they slouched about the village streets 
or loped along the roads on their ponies. But 
they bore no hostility toward anything save work 
and soap and water. 

We were comfortable and fairly prosperous on 
the little farm. My mother, whose maiden name 
was Mary Ann Leacock, took an active part in the 



4 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

life of the neighborhood. An education was 
scarce in those days. Even school teachers did not 
always possess it. Mother's education was far 
beyond the average, and the local school board 
used to require all applicants for teachers' posi- 
tion to be examined by her before they were en- 
trusted with the tender intellects of the pioneer 
children. 

But the love of adventure was in father's blood. 
The railroad — the only one I had ever seen — ex- 
tended as far as Port Byron, Illinois, just across 
the Mississippi. When the discovery of gold in 
California in 1849 set the whole country wild, this 
railroad began to bring the Argonauts, bound for 
the long overland wagon journey across the 
Plains. Naturally father caught the excitement. 
In 1850 he made a start, but it was abandoned — 
why I never knew. But after that he was not 
content with Iowa. In 1853 our farm and most 
of our goods and chattels were converted into 
money. And in 1854 we all set out for Kansas, 
which was soon to be opened for settlers as a , 
Territory. ' 

Two wagons carried our household goods. A 
carriage was provided for my mother and sisters. 
Father had a trading-wagon built, and stocked it 
with red blankets, beads, and other goods with 
which to tempt the Indians. My only brother had 
been killed by a fall from a horse, so I was second 
in command, and proud I was of the job. 

My uncle Elijah kept a general store at Weston, 
Missouri, just across the Kansas line. He was a 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 5 

large exporter of hemp as well as a trader. Also 
he was a slave-owner. 

Weston was our first objective. Father had 
determined to take up a claim in Kansas and to 
begin a new life in this stirring country. Had he 
foreseen the dreadful consequences to himself and 
to his family of this decision we might have re- 
mained in Iowa, in which case perhaps I might 
have grown up an Iowa farmer, though that now 
seems impossible. 

Thirty days of a journey that was a constant 
delight to me brought us to Weston, where we left 
the freight- wagons and mother and my sisters in 
the care of my uncle. 

To my great joy father took me with him on 
his first trip into Kansas — ^where he was to pick 
out his claim and incidentally to trade with the 
Indians from our wagon. I shall never forget the 
thrill that ran through me when father, point- 
ing to the block-house at Fort Leavenworth, 
said: 

''Son, you now see a real military fort for the 
first time in your life." And a real fort it was. 
Cavalry — or dragoons as they called them then — 
were engaged in saber drill, their swords flashing 
in the sunlight. Artillery was rumbling over the 
parade ground. Infantry was marching and 
wheeling. About the Post were men dressed all 
in buckskin with coonskin caps or broad-brimmed 
slouch hats — real Westerners of whom I had 
dreamed. Indians of all sorts were loafing about 
— all friendly, but a new and different kind of 



6 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOKY 

Indians from any I had seen — Kickapoos, Possa- 
watomies, Delawares, Choctaws, and other tribes, 
of which I had often heard. Everything I saw 
fascinated me. 

These drills at the Fort were : i fancy dress- 
parades. They meant business. A thousand 
miles to the west the Mormons were running 
things in Utah with a high hand. No one at Fort 
Leavenworth doubted that these very troops 
would soon be on their way to determine whether 
Brigham Young or the United States Government 
should be supreme there. 

To the north and west the hostile Indians, con- 
stantly irritated by the encroachments of the 
white man, had become a growing menace. The 
block-houses I beheld were evidences of prepared- 
ness against this danger. And in that day the 
rumblings of the coming struggle over slavery 
could already be heard. Kansas — ^very soon 
afterward ** Bleeding Kansas" — was destined to 
be an early battleground. And we were soon to 
know something of its tragedies. 

Free-soil men and pro-slavery men were then 
ready to rush across the border the minute it was 
opened for settlement. Father was a Free-soil 
man. His brother Elijah who, as I have said, was 
a slave-owner, was a believer in the extension of 
slavery into the new territory. 

Knowing that the soldiers I saw today might 
next week be on their way to battle made my eyes 
big with excitement. I could have stayed there 
forever. But father had other plans, and we were 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 7. 

soon on our way. With, our trading-wagon we 
climbed a hill — later named Sheridan's Ridge 
for General Philip Sheridan. From its summit 
we had a view of Salt Creek Valley, the most 
beautiful vallwr I have ever seen. In this valley 
lay our future home. 

The hill was very steep, and I remember we had 
to **lock" or chain the wagon-wheels as we de- 
scended. We made camp in the valley. The next 
day father began trading with the Indians, who 
were so pleased with the bargains he had to offer 
that they sent their friends back to us when they 
departed. One of the first trades he made was 
for a little pony for me — a four-year-old — which 
I was told I should have to break myself. I named 
him Prince. I had a couple of hard falls, but I 
made up my mind I was going to ride that pony 
or bust, and — I did not bust. 

The next evening, looking over toward the west, 
I saw a truly frontier sight — a line of trappers 
winding down the hillside with their pack animals. 
My mother had often told me of the trappers 
searching the distant mountains for fur-bearing 
animals and living a life of fascinating adventure. 
Here they were in reality. 

While some of the men prepared the skins, 
others built a fire and began to get a meal. I 
watched them cook the dried venison, and was 
filled with wonder at their method of making 
bread, which was to wrap the dough about a stick 
and hold it over the coals till it was ready to 
eat. You can imagine my rapture when one of 



8 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

them — a pleasant-faced youth — looked up, and 
catching sight of me, invited me to share the 
meal. 

Boys are always hungry, but I was especially 
hungry for such a meal as that. After it was over 
I hurried to camp and told my father all that had 
passed. At his request I brought the young 
trapper who had been so kind to me over to our 
camp, and there he had a long talk with father, 
telling him of his adventures by land and sea in 
all parts of the world. 

He said that he looked forward with great in- 
terest to his arrival in Weston, as he expected 
to meet an uncle, Elijah Cody. He had seen none 
of his people for many years. 

''If Elijah Cody is your uncle, I am too," said 
my father. "You must be the long-lost Horace 
Billings. ' ' 

Father had guessed right. Horace had wan- 
dered long ago from the Ohio home and none of 
his family knew of his whereabouts. He had been 
to South America and to California, joining a 
band of trappers on the Columbia River and com- 
ing with them back across the Plains. 

When I showed him my pony he offered to help 
break him for me. With very little trouble he 
rode the peppery little creature this way and that, 
and at last when he circled back to camp I found 
the animal had been mastered.' 

In the days that followed Horace gave me many 
useful lessons as a horseman. He was the pret- 
tiest rider I had ever seen. There had been a 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 9 

stampede of horses from the Fort, and a reward 
of ten dollars a head had been offered for all 
animals brought in. That was easy money for 
Horace. I would gallop along at his side as he 
chased the fugitive horses. He had a long, plaited 
lariat which settled surely over the neck of the 
brute he was after. Then, putting a **della wait'* 
on the pommel of his saddle, he would check his 
own mount and bring his captive to a suddea 
standstill. He caught and brought in five horses 
the first day, and must have captured twenty-five 
within the next few days, earning a sum of money 
which was almost a small fortune in that time. 

Meanwhile the Territory had been opened for 
settlement. Our claim, over which the Great Salt 
Lake trail for California passed, had been taken 
up, and as soon as father and I, assisted by men 
he hired, could get our log cabin up, the family 
came on from Weston. The cabin was a primi- 
tive affair. There was no floor at first. But grad- 
ually we built a floor and partitions, and made it 
habitable. I spent all my spare time picking up 
the Kickapoo tongue from the Indian children in 
the neighborhood, and listening with both ears to 
the tales of the wide plains beyond. 

The great freighting firm of Russell, Majors & 
Waddell was then sending its twenty-five wagon 
^trains out from the Plains to carry supplies to 
the soldiers at the frontier forts. Leavenworth 
was the firm's headquarters. Russell stayed on 
the books, and Majors was the operating man on 
the Plains. The trains were wonderful to me. 



I 



10 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

each wagon with its six yoke of oxen, wagon- 
masters, extra hands, assistants, bull-whackers 
and cavayard driver following with herds of extra 
oxen. I began at once making the acquaintance of 
the men, and by the end of 1854 I knew them all. 

Up to this time, while bad blood existed between 
the Free-soilers and the pro-slavery men, it had 
not become a killing game. The pro-slavery Mis- 
sourians were in the great majority. They 
harassed the Free-soilers considerably and com- 
mitted many petty persecutions, but no blood was 
shed. Father's brother, Elijah, who kept the 
store at Weston, was known to be a pro-slavery 
man, and for a time it was taken for granted that 
father held the same views. But he was never at 
any pains to hide his own opinions, being a man 
who was afraid of nothing. John Brown of 
Ossawatomie, later hanged, for the Harper's 
Ferry raid, at Charlestown, Va., was his friend. 
So were Colonel Jim Lane and many other Aboli- 
tionists. He went to their houses openly, and they 
came to his. He worked hard with the men he 
had hired, cutting the wild hay and cordwood to 
sell to the Fort, and planting sod corn under the 
newly turned sod of the farm. He also made 
a garden, plowing and harrowing the soil and 
breaking up the sods by hitching horses to branch- 
ing trees and drawing them over the ground. He 
minded his own business and avoided all the fac- 
tional disputes with which the neighborhood 
abounded. 

In June, 1856, when I was ten years old, father 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 11 

went to the Fort to collect his pay for hay and 
wood he had sold there. I accompanied him on 
my pony. On our return we saw a crowd of 
drunken horsemen in front of Riveley's trading- 
post — as stores were called on the frontier. 
There were many men in the crowd and they were 
all drunk, yelling and shooting their pistols in 
the air. They caught sight of us immediately and 
a few of them advanced toward us as we rode up. 
Father expected trouble, but he was not a man to 
turn back. We rode quietly up to them, and were 
about to continue on past when one of them 
yelled : 

''There's that abolition cuss now. Git him up 
here and make him declar' hisself !" 

*'Git off that boss, Cody!" shouted another. 

By this time more than a dozen men were 
crowding about father, cursing and abusing him. 
Soon they tore him from his horse. One of them 
rolled a drygoods box from the store. 

*'Now," he said, ''git up on that thar box, and 
tell us whar ' ye stand. ' ' 

Standing on the box, father looked at the ring- 
leaders with no sign of fear. 

"I am not ashamed of my views," he saidy 
quietly. "I am not an Abolitionist, and never 
have been. I think it is better to let slavery alone 
in the States where it is now. But I am not at all 
afraid to tell you that I am opposed to its exten- 
sion, and that I believe that it should be kept out 
of Kansas." 

His speech was followed by a wild yell of de- 



12 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

rision. Men began crowding around him, cursing 
and shaking their fists. One of them, whom I 
recognized as Charhe Dunn, an employee of my 
Uncle Elijah, worked his way through the crowd, 
and jumped up on the box directly behind father. 
I saw the gleam of a knife. The next instant, 
without a groan, father fell forward stabbed in 
the back. Somehow I got off my pony and ran 
to his assistance, catching him as he fell. His 
weight overbore me but I eased him as he came 
to the ground. 

Dunn was still standing, knife in hand, seeking 
a chance for another thrust. 

''Look out, ye 'II stab the kid!" somebody 
yelled. Another man, with a vestige of decency, 
restrained the murderer. Riveley came out of the 
store. There was a little breaking up of the 
crowd. Dunn was got away. Wliat happened to 
him later I shall tell you in another chapter. 

With the help of a friend I got father into a 
wagon when the crowd had gone. I held his head 
in my lap during the ride home. I believed he 
was mortally wounded. He had been stabbed 
down through the kidneys, leaving an ugly wound. 
But he did not die of it — then. Mother nursed 
him carefully and had he been spared further per- 
secution, he might have survived. But this was 
only the beginning. 

The pro-slavers waited a few days, and finding 
there was no move to molest them, grew bold. 
They announced that they were coming to our 
house to finish their work. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 13 

One night we heard that a party was organized 
to carry out this purpose. As quietly as possible 
mother helped take father out into the sod corn, 
which then grew tall and thick close about the 
cabin. She put a shawl round him and a sun- 
bonnet on his head to disguise him as he was 
taken out. 

There in the sod corn we made him a bed of hay 
and blankets and there we kept him for days, 
carrying food to him by night. These were 
anxious days for my mother and her little family. 
My first real work as a scout began then, for I had 
to keep constantly on the watch for raids by the 
ruffians, who had now sworn that father must die. 

As soon as he was able to walk we decided that 
he must be got away. Twenty-five miles distant, 
at Grasshopper Falls, were a party of his friends. 
There he hoped one day to plant a colony. With 
the help of a few friends we moved him thither 
one night, but word of his whereabouts soon 
reached his enemies. 

I kept constantly on the alert, and, hearing that 
a party had set out to murder him at the Falls, 
I got into the saddle and sped out to warn him. 

At a ford on the way I ran into the gang, who 
had stopped to water their horses. 

As I galloped past, one of them yelled: 
** There's Cody's kid now on his way to warn his 
father. Stop, you, and tell us where your old 
man is." 

A pistol shot, to terrify me into obedience, ac- 
companied the command. I may have been terri- 



14 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

fied, but it was not into obedience. I got out of 
there like a shot, and though they rode hard on my 
trail my pony was too fast for them. My warning 
was in time. 

We got father as quickly as we could to 
Lawrence, which was an abolition stronghold, and 
where he was safe for the time being. He grad- 
ually got back a part of his strength, enough of it 
at any rate to enable him to take part in the re- 
pulse of a raid of Missourians who came over to 
burn Lawrence and lynch the Abolitionists. They 
were driven back across the Missouri River by the 
Lawrence men, who trapped them into an ambush 
and so frightened them that for the present they 
rode on their raids no more. 

When father returned to Salt Creek Valley the 
persecutions began again. The gangsters drove 
off all our stock and killed all our pigs and even 
the chickens. One night Judge Sharpe, a dis- 
reputable old alcoholic who had been elected a 
justice of the peace, came to the house and de- 
manded a meal. Mother, trembling for the safety 
of her husband, who lay sick upstairs, hastened to 
get it for him. As the old scoundrel sat waiting 
he caught sight of me. 

''Look yere, kid," he shouted, **ye see this 
knife?" 

He drew a long, wicked bowie. ''Well, I'm 
^oing to sharpen that to finish up the job that 
Charlie Dunn began the other day." And scowl- 
ing horribly at me he began whetting the knife on 
a stone he picked up from the table. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 15 

Now, I knew something about a gun, and there 
was a gun handy. It was upstairs, and I lost no 
time in getting it. Sitting on the stairs I cocked 
it and held it across my knees. I am sure that I 
should have shot him had he attempted to come 
up those stairs. 

He didn 't test my shooting ability, however. He 
got even with me by taking my beloved pony. 
Prince, when he left. Mother pleaded with him to 
leave it, for it was the only animal we had, but she 
might as well have pleaded with a wildcat. 

We had now been reduced to utter destitution. 
Our only food was what rabbits and birds I could 
trap and catch with the help of our faithful old 
dog Turk, and the sod corn which we grated into 
flour. Father could be of no service to us. His 
presence, in fact, was merely a menace. So, with 
the help of Brown, Jim Lane and other Free- 
soilers, he made his way back to Ohio and began 
recruiting for his Grasshopper Falls colony. 

He returned to us in the spring of '57 mortally 
ill. The wound inflicted by Dunn had at last ful- 
filled the murderer's purpose. Father died in the 
little log-house, the first man to shed his blood in 
the fight against the extension of slavery into the 
Northern Territories. 

I was eleven years old, and the only man of the 
family. I made up my mind to be a bread- 
winner. 

At that time the Fort was full of warlike prepa- 
rations. A great number of troops were being 
assembled to send against the Mormons. Trouble 



16 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

had been long expected. United States Judges 
and Federal officers sent to the Territory of Utah 
had been flouted. Some of them never dared take 
their seats. Those who did asked assistance. 
Congress at last decided to give it to them. Gen- 
eral Harney was to command the expedition. Col. 
Albert Sidney Johnston, afterward killed at 
Shiloh, where he fought on the Confederate side, 
was in charge of the expedition to which the 
earliest trains were to be sent. 

Many of the soldiers had already pushed on 
ahead. Russell, Majors & Waddell were awarded 
the contract for taking them supplies and beef 
cattle. The supplies were forwarded in the long 
trains of twenty-five wagons, of which I have told 
you. The cattle were driven after the soldiers, 
the herds often falling many miles behind them. 

I watched these great preparations eagerly, and 
it occurred to me that I ought to have a share in 
them. I went to Mr. Majors, whom I always 
called Uncle Aleck, and asked him for a job. I 
told him of our situation, and that I needed it very 
badly for the support of my mother and family. 

''But you're only a boy, Billy," he objected. 
/'What can you do?" 

"I can ride as well as a man," I said. "I could 
drive cavayard, couldn't I?" Driving cava yard 
is herding the extra cattle that follow the wagon 
train. 

Mr. Majors agreed that I could do this, and con- 
sented to employ me. I was to receive a man's 
wages, forty dollars a month and food, and the 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 17 

wages were to be paid to my mother while I was 
gone. With forty dollars a month she would be 
able to support her daughters and my baby 
brother in comfort. Before I was allowed to go 
to work Uncle Aleck handed me the oath which 
every one of his employees must sign. I did my 
best to live up to its provisions, but I am afraid 
that the profanity clause at least was occasionally 
violated by some of the bull- whackers. Here is the 
oath : 

**We, the undersigned wagon-masters, assist- 
ants, teamsters and all other employees of the firm 
of Russell, Majors & Waddell, do hereby sign that 
we will not swear, drink whisky, play cards or be 
cruel to dumb beasts in any way, shape or form. 

his 
(Signed) ** William Fredekick X Cody.** 

mark 

I signed it with my mark, for I could not write 
then. After administering this ironclad oath Mr. 
Majors gave each man a Testament. 

My first job was that of accompanying a herd 
of cattle destined for beef for the troops that had 
gone on ahead. Bill McCarthy, boss of the outfit, 
was a typical Westerner, rough but courageous, 
and with plenty of experience on the frontier. 

We progressed peacefully enough till we made 
Plum Creek, thirty-six miles west of Fort Kear- 
ney, on the South Platte. The trip had been full 
of excitement for me. The camp life was rough, 



18 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

the bacon often rusty and the flour moldy, but the 
hard work gave us big appetites. Plainsmen 
learn not to be particular. 

I remember that on some of our trips we 
obtained such ''luxuries" as dried apples and 
beans as part of our supplies. We could only 
have these once every two or three days, and 
their presence in the mess was always a glad 
occasion. 

We were nooning at Plum Creek, the cattle 
spread out over the prairie to graze in charge of 
two herders. Suddenly there was a sharp Bang! 
Bang ! Bang ! and a thunder of hoofs. 

"Indians! They've shot the herders and stam- 
peded the cattle!" cried McCarthy. "Get under 
the banks of the river, boys — use 'em for a breast- 
work ! ' ' 

We obeyed orders quickly. The Platte, a wide, 
shallow, muddy stream, flows under banks which 
vary from five to thirty feet in height. Behind 
them we were in much the position of European 
soldiers in a trench. We had our guns, and if the 
Indians showed over the bank could have made it 
hot for them. 

McCarthy told us to keep together and to make 
our way down the river to Fort Kearney, the 
nearest refuge. It was a long and wearying jour- 
ney, but our lives depended on keeping along the 
river bed. Often we would have to wade the 
stream which, while knee-deep to the men, was 
well-nigh waist-deep to me. Gradually I fell be- 
hind, and when night came I was dragging one 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 19 

weary step after another — dog-tired but still 
clinging to my old Mississippi Yaeger rifle, a 
short muzzle-loader which carried a ball and two 
buckshot. 

Darkness came, and I still toiled along. The 
men ahead were almost out of hearing. Presently 
the moon rose, dead ahead of me. And painted 
boldly across its face was the black figure of an 
Indian. There could be no mistaking him for a 
white man. He wore the war-bonnet of the Sioux, 
and at his shoulder was a rifle, pointed at someone 
in the bottom below him. I knew well enough that 
in another second he would drop one of my 
friends. So I raised my Yaeger and fired. I saw 
the figure collapse, and heard it come tumbling 
thirty feet down the bank, landing with a splash 
in the water. 

McCarthy and the rest of the party, hearing the 
shot, came back in a hurry. 

*'What is it?" asked McCarthy, when he came 
up to me. 

*'I don't know," I said. *' Whatever it is, it is 
down there in the water. ' ' 

McCarthy ran over to the brave. **Hi!" he 
cried. ''Little Billy's killed an Indian all by him- 
self!" 

Not caring to meet any of this gentleman's 
friends we pushed on still faster toward Fort 
Kearney, which we reached about daylight. We 
were given food and sent to bed, while the soldiers 
set out to look for our slain comrades and to try 
to recover our cattle. 



20 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

Soldiers from Fort Leavenworth found the 
herders, killed and mutilated in the Indian fash- 
ion. But the cattle had been stampeded among 
the buffalo and it was impossible to recover a 
single head. 

We were taken back to Leavenworth on one of 
the returning freight wagon-trains. The news of 
my exploit was noised about and made me the 
envy of aU the boys of the neighborhood. The 
Leavenworth Times, published by D. R. Anthony, 
sent a reporter to get the story of the adventure, 
and in it my name was printed for the first time 
as the youngest Indian slayer of the Plains. 

I was persuaded now that I was destined to lead 
a life on the Plains. The two months that our ill- 
fated expedition had consumed had not discour- 
aged me. Once more I applied to Mr. Majors 
for a 30b. 

"You seem to have a reputation as a frontiers- 
man, Billy," he said; *'I guess I'll have to give 
you another chance. ' ' He turned me over to Lew 
Simpson, who was boss of a twenty-five wagon- 
train just starting with supplies for General 
Albert Sidney Johnston's army, which was then 
on its way to Great Salt Lake to fight the Mor- 
mons, whose Destroying Angels, or Deanites, 
were engaged in many outrages on Gentile im- 
migrants. 

Simpson appeared to be glad to have me. "We 
need Indian fighters, Billy," he told me, and giv- 
ing me a mule to ride assigned me to a job as 
cavayard driver. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 21 

Our long train, twenty-five wagons in a line, 
each with its six yoke of oxen, rolled slowly out of 
Leavenworth over the western trail. Wagon- 
master assistants, buUwhackers — thirty men in 
all, not to mention the cavayard driver — ^it was an 
imposing sight. This was to be a long journey, 
clear to the Utah country, and I eagerly looked 
forward to new adventures. 

The first of these came suddenly. We were 
strung out over the trail near the Platte, about 
twenty miles from the scene of the Indian attack 
on McCarthy's outfit, watching the buffalo scat- 
tered to right and left of us, when we heard two 
or three shots, fired in rapid succession. 

Before we could find out who fired them, down 
upon us came a herd of buffalo, charging in a 
furious stampede. There was no time to do any- 
thing but jump behind our wagons. The light 
mess-wagon was drawn by six yoke of Texas 
steers which instantly became part of the stam- 
pede, tearing away over the prairie with the buf- 
falo, our wagon following along behind. The 
other wagons were too heavy for the steers to 
gallop away with; otherwise the whole outfit 
would have gone. 

I remember that one big bull came galloping 
down between two yoke of oxen, tearing away 
the gooseneck and the heavy chain with each low- 
ered horn. I can still see him as he rushed away 
with these remarkable decorations dangling from 
either side. Whether or not his new ornaments 
excited the admiration of his fellows when the 



22 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

herd came to a stand later in the day I can only- 
guess. 

The descent of the buffalo upon us lasted only 
a few minutes, but so much damage was done that 
three days were required to repair it before we 
could move on. We managed to secure our mess- 
wagon again, which was lucky, for it contained all 
our provender. 

We learned afterward that the stampede had 
been caused by a returning party of California 
gold-seekers, whose shots into the herd had been 
our first warning of what was coming. Twice be- 
fore we neared the Mormon country we were at- 
tacked by Indians. The army was so far ahead 
that they had become bold. We beat off the at- 
tacks, but lost two men. 

It was white men, however, not Indians, who 
were to prove our most dangerous enemies. Ar- 
riving near Green River we were nooning on a 
ridge about a mile and a half from a little creek. 
Halm's Fork, where the stock were driven to 
water. This was a hundred and fifteen miles east 
of Salt Lake City, and well within the limits of the 
Mormon country. 

Most of the outfit had driven the cattle to the 
creek, a mile and a half distant, and were return- 
ing slowly, while the animals grazed along the 
way back to camp. I was with them. We were 
out of sight of the wagons. 

As he rose the hill a big bearded man, mounted 
and surrounded by a party of armed followers, 
rode up to our wagon-master. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 23 

''Throw up your hands, Simpson!" said the 
leader, who knew Simpson's name and his posi- 
tion. 

Simpson was a brave man, but the strangers 
had the drop and up went his hands. At the same 
time we saw that the wagons were surrounded by 
several hundred men, all mounted and armed, and 
the teamsters all rounded up in a bunch. We 
knew that we had fallen into the hands of the 
Mormon Danites, or Destroying Angels, the ruf- 
fians who perpetrated the dreadful Mountain 
Meadows Massacre of the same year. The leader 
was Lot Smith, one of the bravest and most de- 
termined of the whole crowd. 

"Now, Simpson," he said, ''we are going to be 
kind to you. You can have one wagon with the 
cattle to draw it. Get into it all the provisions and 
blankets you can carry, and turn right round and 
go back to the Missouri Eiver. You're headed in 
the wrong direction." 

"Can we have our guns?" asked Simpson. 

"Not a gun." 

" Six-shooters ?" 

"Not a six-shooter. Nothing but food and 
blankets. ' ' 

"How are we going to protect ourselves on the 
way?" 

"That's your business. We're doing you a 
favor to spare your lives." 

All Simpson's protests were in vain. There 
were thirty of us against several hundred of them. 
The Mormons stood over us while we loaded a 



24 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

wagon till it sagged with provisions, clothing and 
blankets. They had taken away every rifle and 
every pistol we possessed. Ordering us to hike 
for the East, and informing us that we would be 
shot down if we attempted to turn back, they 
watched us depart. 

When we had moved a little way off we saw a 
blaze against the sky behind us, and knew that our 
wagon-train had been fired. The greasy bacon 
made thick black smoke and a bright-red flame, 
and for a long time the fire burned, till noth- 
ing was left but the iron bolts and axles and 
tires. 

Smith's party, which had been sent out to keep 
all supplies from reaching Johnston's army, had 
burned two other wagon-trains that same day, 
as we afterward learned. The wagons were all 
completely consumed, and for the next few years 
the Mormons would ride out to the scenes to get 
the iron that was left in the ashes. 

Turned adrift on the desert with not a weapon 
to defend ourselves was hardly 'a pleasant pros- 
pect. It meant a walk of a thousand miles home 
to Leavenworth. The wagon was loaded to its full 
capacity. There was nothing to do but walk. I 
was not yet twelve years old, but I had to walk 
with the rest the full thousand miles, and we made 
nearly thirty miles a day. 

Fortunately we were not molested by Indians. 
From passing wagon-trains we got a few rifles, all 
they could spare, and with these we were able to 
kill game for fresh meat. I wore out three pairs 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 25 

of moccasins on that journey, and learned then 
that the thicker are the soles of your shoes, the 
easier are your feet in a long walk over rough 
ground. 

After a month of hard travel we reached 
Leavenworth. I set out at once for the log-cabin 
home, whistling as I walked, and the first to wel- 
come me was my old dog Turk, who came tearing 
toward me and almost knocked me down in his 
eagerness. I am sure my mother and sisters were 
mighty glad to see me. They had feared that I 
might never return. 

My next journey over the Plains was begun 
under what, to me, were very exciting circum- 
stances. I spent the winter of '57- '58 at school. 
My mother was anxious about my education. But 
the master of the frontier school wore out several 
armfuls of hazel switches in a vain effort to in- 
terest me in the ''three R's." 

I kept thinking of my short but adventurous 
past. And as soon as another opportunity offered 
to return to it I seized it eagerly. 

That spring my former boss. Lew Simpson, was 
busily organizing a "lightning bull team" for his 
employers, Russell, Majors & Waddell. Albert 
Sidney Johnston's soldiers, then moving West, 
needed supplies, and needed them in a hurry. 
Thus far the mule was the reindeer of draft ani- 
mals, and mule trains were forming to hurry the 
needful supplies to the soldiers. 

But Simpson had great faith in the bull. A 
picked bull train, he allowed, could beat a mule 



26 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

train all hollow on a long haul. All he wanted was 
a chance to prove it. 

His employers gave him the chance. For sev- 
eral weeks he had been picking his animals for the 
outfit. And now he was to begin what is perhaps 
the most remarkable race ever made across the 
Plains. 

A mule train was to start a week after Simp- 
son's lightning bulls began their westward course. 
Whichever outfit got to Fort Laramie first would 
be the winner. No more excitement could have 
been occasioned had the contestants been a rein- 
deer and a jack-rabbit. To my infinite delight 
Simpson let me join his party. 

My thousand-mile tramp over the Plains had 
cured me of the walking habit and I was glad to 
find that this time I was to have a horse to ride — - 
part of the way, anyhow. I was to be an extra 
hand — which meant that by turns I was to be a 
bull- whacker, driver and general-utility man. 

I remember that our start was a big event. 
Men, women and children watched our chosen 
animals amble out of Salt Creek. The *'mule 
skinners," busy with preparations for their own 
departure, stopped work to jeer us. 

''We'll ketch you in a couple of days or sol" 
yelled Tom Stewart, boss of the mule outfit. 

But Simpson only grinned. Jeers couldn't 
shake his confidence either in himself or his long- 
horned motive power. 

We made the first hundred and fifty miles 
easily. I was glad to be a plainsman once more, 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 27 

and took a lively interest in everything that went 
forward. We were really making speed, too, 
which added to the excitement. The ordinary bull 
team could do about fifteen miles a day. Under 
Simpson's command his specially selected bulls 
were doing twenty-five, and doing it right along. 

But one day, while we were nooning about one 
hundred and fifty miles on the way, one of the 
boys shouted : ' * Here come the mules ! ' ' 

Presently Stewart's train came shambling up, 
and a joyful lot the ''mule skinners" were at what 
they believed their victory. 

But it was a short-lived victory. At the end of 
the next three hundred miles we found them, try- 
ing to cross the Platte, and making heavy work 
of it. The grass fodder had told on the mules. 
Supplies from other sources were now exhausted. 
There were no farms, no traders, no grain to be 
had. The race had become a race of endurance, 
and the strongest stomachs were destined to be 
the winners. 

Stewart made a bad job of the crossing. The 
river was high, and his mules quickly mired down 
in the quicksand. The more they pawed the 
deeper they went. 

Simpson picked a place for crossing below the 
ford Stewart had chosen. He put enough bulls on 
a wagon to insure its easy progress, and the bulls 
wallowed through the sand on their round bellies, 
using their legs as paddles. 

Stewart pulled ahead again after he had 
crossed the river, but soon his mules grew too 



28 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

feeble to make anything like their normal speed. 
We passed them for good and all a few days 
farther on, and were far ahead when we reached 
the North Platte. 

Thus ended a race that I shall never forget. 
Since that time the stage-coach has outdistanced 
the bull team, the pony express has swpt past 
the stage-coach, the locomotive has done in an 
hour what the prairie schooner did in three or 
four days. Soon the aeroplane will be racing 
with the automobile for the cross-country 
record. 

But the bull team and the mule team were the 
continental carriers of that day, and I am very 
glad that I took part — on the winning side — in a 
race between them. 

We soon began meeting parties of soldiers, and 
lightening our loads by issuing supplies to them. 
When at last we reached Fort Laramie, the out- 
fit was ordered to Fort Walback, located in 
Cheyenne Pass, twenty-five miles from where 
Cheyenne stands today, and ninety miles from 
Fort Laramie. 

This was in the very heart of the Indian coun- 
try. Our animals were to haul in plows, tools and 
whatever was necessary in the constructing of the 
new fort then building. The wagon-beds were 
taken from the wagons to enable the hauling of 
greater loads. The beds were piled up at Fort 
Laramie, and I was assigned to watch them. It 
was here that I had abundant time and oppor- 
tunity to study the West at first hand. Hereto- 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 29 

/ore I had been on the march. Now I was on fixed 
post, with plenty of time for observation. 

Fort Laramie was an old frontier post, such as 
has not existed for many years. Nearby, three or 
four thousand Sioux, Northern Cheyennes and 
Northern Arapahoes were encamped, most of 
them spending much of the time at the post. 
Laramie had been established by a fur-trading 
company in 1834. In 1840 or thereabouts the Gov- 
ernment bought it and made it a military post. 
It had become the most famous meeting-place of 
the Plains. Here the greatest Indian councils 
were held, and here also came the most celebrated 
of the Indian fighters, men whose names had long 
been known to me, but whom I never dared hope 
to see. 

Kit Carson, Jim Bridger, Baker, Richards and 
other of the celebrated hunters, trappers and 
Indian fighters were as familiar about the post as 
are banl^ers in Wall Street. All these men fas- 
cinated me, especially Carson, a small, dapper, 
quiet man whom everybody held in profound 
respect. 

I used to sit for hours and watch him and the 
others talk to the Indians in the sign language. 
Without a sound they would carry on long and 
interesting conversations, tell stories, inquire 
about game and trails, and discuss pretty much 
everything that men find worth discussing. 

I was naturally desirous of mastering this mys- 
terious medium of speech, and began my educa- 
tion in it with far more interest than I had given 



30 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

to the ** three R's" back at Salt Creek. My 
wagon-beds became splendid playhouses for the 
Indian children from the villages, who are very 
much like other children, despite their red skins. 

I joined them in their games, and from them 
picked up a fair working knowledge of the Sioux 
language. The acquaintance I formed here was to 
save my scalp and life later, but I little suspected' 
it then. 

I spent the sununer of '58 in and about Lara- 
mie. I was getting to be a big, husky boy now, 
and felt that I had entered on what was to be my 
career — as indeed I had. 

In January, '59, Simpson was ordered back to 
Missouri as brigade train-master of three wagon- 
trains, traveling a day apart. Because of much 
travel the grass along the regular trail was eaten 
so close that the feed for the bulls was scanty. 

Instead of following the trail down the South 
Platte, therefore, Simpson picked a new route 
along the North Platte. There was no road, but 
the grass was still long, and forage for the cattle 
was necessary. 

We had accomplished about half our journey 
with no sign of hostile Indians. Then one day, as 
Simpson, George Woods and I were riding ahead 
to overtake the lead train, a party of Sioux bore 
down on us, plainly intent on mischief. There 
was little time to act. No cover of any kind was 
to be had. For us three, even with our rifles, to 
have stood up against the Sioux in the open would 
have been suicide. Simpson had been trained to 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 31 

think quickly. Swinging the three mules so that 
they formed a triangle, he drew his six-shooter 
and dropped them where they stood. 

*'Now there's a little cover, boys," he said, and 
we all made ready for the attack. 

Our plan of defense was now made for us. 
First rifles, then, at closer quarters, revolvers. If 
it came to a hand-to-hand conflict we had our 
knives as a last resort. 

The Sioux drew up when they saw how quickly 
Simpson's wit had built a barricade for us. Then 
the arrows began to fly and among them spattered 
a few bullets. We were as sparing as possible 
with our shots. Most of them told. I had already 
learned how to use a rifle, and was glad indeed 
that I had. If ever a boy stood in need of that 
kind of preparedness I did. 

Down came the Indians, with the blood-curdling 
yeir which is always a feature of their military 
strategy. We waited till they got well within 
range. Then at Simpson's order we fired. Three 
"■ponies galloped riderless over the prairie, and our 
besiegers hesitated, then wheeled, and rode out of 
range. But our rest was short. Back they came. 
Again we fired, and had the good fortune to stop 
three more of them. 

Simpson patted me encouragingly on the shoul- 
der. ''You're all right, Billy!" he said, and his 
praise was music to my ears. 

By this time our poor dead mules, who had 
given their lives for ours, were stuck full of 
arrows. Woods had been winged in the shoulder. 



32 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

Simpson, carefully examining the wound, ex- 
pressed his belief that the arrow which inflicted it 
had not been poisoned. 

But we had little time to worry about that or 
anything else. Our enemies were still circling, 
just out of range. Here and there when they 
grew incautious we dropped a man or a pony. 
But we were still heavily outnumbered. They 
knew it and we knew it. Unless help came it was 
only a question of time till it was all over. 

Daylight came and they still held off. Eagerly 
we looked to the westward, but no wagon-train ap- 
peared. We began to fear that something had 
happened to our friends, when suddenly one of 
the Indians jumped up, and with every evidence 
of excitement signaled to the others. In an in- 
stant they were all mounted. 

"They hear the crack of the bull-whip," said 
Woods. 

He was right. Without another glance in our 
direction the Sioux galloped away toward the foot- 
hills, and as they disappeared we heard the 
welcome snap of the long bull-whip, and saw the 
first of our wagons coming up the trail. In that 
day, however, the plainsman was delivered out of 
one peril only to be plunged into another. His 
days seldom dragged for want of excitement. 

When we got to Leavenworth, Simpson sent 
three of us ahead with the train-book record of the 
men's time, so that their money would be ready 
for them when they arrived at Leavenworth. , 

Our boss 's admonition to ride only at night and 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 33 

to lie under cover in daytime was hardly needed. 
We cared for no more Indian adventures just 
then. 

We made fairly good progress till we got to 
the Little Blue, in Colorado. It was an uncom- 
fortable journey, finding our way by the stars at 
night and lying all day in such shelters as were 
to be found. But the inconvenience of it was far 
preferable to being made targets for Indian 
arrows. 

We were sheltered one night from one of the 
fearful prairie blizzards that make fall and winter 
terrible. We had found a gulley washed out by 
an autumn storm, and it afforded a little protec- 
tion against the wind. Looking down the ravine 
I saw ponies moving. I knew there were Indians 
near, and we looked about for a hiding-place. 

At the head of the ravine I had noticed a cave- 
like hollow. I signaled to the two men to follow 
me, and soon we were snug in a safe hiding-place. 
As we were settling down to rest one of the men 
lit his pipe. As the cave was illuminated by the 
glow of the match there was a wild yell. I 
thought all the Indians in the world had jumped 
us. But the yell had come from my companions. 

We were in the exact center of the most grew- 
some collection of human skulls and bones I have 
ever seen. Bones were strewn on the floor of the 
cave like driftwood. Skulls were grinning at us 
from every corner of the darkness. We had 
stumbled into a big grave where some of the In- 
dians had hidden their dead away from the wolves 



34 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

after a battle. It may be that none of us were 
superstitious, but we got out of there in a hurry, 
and braved the peril of the storm and the Indians 
as best we could. 

I was a rich boy when I got to Leavenworth. I 
had nearly a thousand dollars to turn over to my 
mother as soon as I should draw my pay. After 
a joyful reunion with the family I hitched up a 
pair of ponies, and drove her over so that she 
could witness this pleasing ceremony. As we 
were driving home, I heard her sobbing, and was 
deeply concerned, for this seemed to me no oc- 
casion for tears. I was quick to ask the reason, 
and her answer made me serious. 

"You couldn't even write your name, Willie," 
she said. "You couldn't sign the payroll. To 
think my boy cannot so much as write his name!" 

I thought that over all the way home, and deter- 
mined it should never happen again. 

In Uncle Aleck Majors' book, "Seventy Years 
on the Frontier," he relates how on every wagon- 
sheet and wagon-bed, on every tree and barn door, 
he used to find the name "William F. Cody" in a 
large, uncertain scrawl. Those were my writing 
lessons, and I took them daily until I had my sig- 
nature plastered pretty well over the whole of 
Salt Creek Valley. 

I went to school for a time after that, and at 
last began really to take an interest in education. 
But the Pike's Peak gold rush took me with it. 
I could never resist the call of the trail. With 
another boy who knew as little of gold-mining as 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 35 

I did we hired out with a bull-train for Denver, 
then called Aurora. 

We each had fifty dollars when we got to the 
gold country, and with it we bought an elaborate 
outfit. But there was no mining to be done save 
by expensive machinery, and we had our labor for 
our pains. At last, both of us strapped, we got 
work as timber cutters, which lasted only until we 
found it would take us a week to fell a tree. At 
last we hired out once more as bull-whackers. 
That job we understood, and at it we earned 
enough money to take us home. 

We hired a carpenter to build us a boat, loaded 
it with grub and supplies, and started gayly down 
the Platte for home. But the bad luck of that trip 
held steadily. The boat was overturned in swift 
and shallow water, and we were stranded, wet and 
helpless, on the bank, many miles from home or 
anywhere else. 

Then a miracle happened. Along the trail we 
heard the familiar crack of a bull-whip, and when 
the train came up we found it was the same with 
which we had enlisted for the outward journey, 
returning to Denver with mining machinery. 
Among this machinery was a big steam-boiler, the 
first to be taken into Colorado. On the way out 
the outfit had been jumped by Indians. The 
wagon boss, knowing the red man's fear of can- 
non, had swung the great boiler around so that it 
had appeared to point at them. Never was so big 
a cannon. Even the 42-centimeter howitzers of 
Europe today could not compare with it. The 



36 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

Indians took one look at it, then departed that 
part of the country as fast as their ponies could 
travel. 

We stuck with the train into Denver and back 
home again, and glad we were to retire from gold- 
mining. 

Soon after my return to Salt Creek Valley I 
decided on another and, I thought, a better way 
to make a fortune for myself and my family. 

During my stay in and about Fort Laramie I 
had seen much of the Indian traders, and accom- 
panied them on a number of expeditions. Their 
business was to sell to the Indians various things 
they needed, chiefly guns and ammunition, and to 
take in return the current Indian coin, which con- 
sisted of furs. 

With the supplies bought by the money I had 
earned on the trip with Simpson, mother and my 
sisters were fairly comfortable. I felt that I 
should be able to embark in the fur business on 
my own account — not as a trader but as a trapper. 

With my friend Dave Harrington as a com- 
panion I set out. Harrington was older than I, 
and had trapped before in the Eockies. I was sure 
that with my knowledge of the Plains and his of 
the ways of the fur-bearing animals, we should 
form an excellent partnership, as in truth we did. 

We bought a yoke of oxen, a wagon-sheet, 
wagon, traps of all sorts, and strychnine with 
which to poison wolves. Also we laid in a supply 
of grub — no luxuries, but coffee, flour, bacon and 
everything that we actually needed to sustain life. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 37 

We headed west, and about two hundred miles 
from home we struck Prairie Creek, where we 
found abundant signs of beaver, mink, otter and 
other fur-bearing animals. No Indians had 
troubled us, and we felt safe in establishing head- 
quarters here and beginning work. The first task 
was to build a dugout in a hillside, which we 
roofed with brush, long grass, and finally dirt, 
making everything snug and cozy. A little fire- 
place in the wall served as both furnace and 
kitchen. Outside we built a corral for the oxen, 
which completed our camp. 

Our trapping was successful from the start, and 
we were sure that prosperity was at last in sight. 

We set our steel traps along the ''runs" used 
by the animals, taking great care to hide our 
tracks, and give the game no indication of the 
presence of an enemy. The pelts began to pile up 
in our shack. Most of the day we were busy at the 
traps, or skinning and salting the hides, and at 
night we would sit by our little fire and swap ex- 
periences till we fell asleep. Always there was 
the wail of the coyotes and the cries of other 
animals without, but as long as we saw no Indians 
we were not worried. 

One night, just as we were dozing off, we heard 
a tremendous commotion in the corral. Harring- 
ton grabbed his gun and hurried out. He was just 
in time to see a big bear throw one of our oxen 
and proceed with the work of butchering him-. 

He fired, and the bear, slightly wounded, left the 
ox and turned his attention to his assailant. He 



38 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

was leaping at my partner, growling savagely, 
when I, gun in hand, rounded the corner of the 
shack. I took the best aim I could get in the dark, 
and the bear, which was within a few feet of my 
friend, rolled over dead. 

Making sure that he was past harming us we 
turned our attention to the poor bull, but he was 
too far gone to recover, and another bullet put him 
out of his misery. 

We were now left without a team, and two hun- 
dred miles from home. But wealth in the shape 
of pelts was accumulating about us, and we de- 
termined to stick it out till spring. Then one of 
us could go to the nearest settlement for a team- 
mate for our remaining steer, while the other 
stayed in charge of the camp. 

This plan had to be carried out far sooner than 
we expected. A few days later we espied a herd 
of elk, which meant plentiful and excellent meat. 
We at once started in pursuit. Creeping stealth- 
ily along toward them, keeping out of sight, and 
awaiting an opportunity to get a good shot, I 
slipped on a stone in the creek bed. 

**Snap!" went something and looking down I 
saw my foot hanging useless. I had broken my 
leg just above the ankle and my present career as 
a fur-trapper had ended. 

I was very miserable when Harrington came 
up. I urged him to shoot me as he had the 
ox, but he laughingly replied that that would 
hardly do. 

''I'll bring you out all right!" he said. "I owe 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 39 

you a life anyway for saving me from that bear. 
I learned a little something about surgery when I 
was in Illinois, and I guess I can fix you up." 

He got me back to camp after a long and painful 
hour, and with a wagon-bow, which he made into a 
splint, set the fracture. But our enterprise was at 
an end. Help would have to be found now, and 
before spring. One man and a cripple could never 
get through the winter. 

It was determined that Harrington must go for 
this needful assistance just as soon as possible. 
He placed me on our little bunk, with plenty of 
blankets to cover me. All our provisions he put 
within my reach. A cup was lashed to a long 
sapling, and Harrington made a hole in the side 
of the dugout so that I could reach this cup out 
to a snow-bank for my water supply. 

Lastly he cut a great pile of wood and heaped 
it near the fire. Without leaving the bunk I could 
thus do a little cooking, keep the fire up, and eat 
and sleep. It was not a situation that I would 
have chosen, but there was nothing else to do. 

The nearest settlement was a hundred and 
twenty-five miles distant. Harrington figured 
that he could make the round trip in twenty days. 
My supplies were ample to last that long. I urged 
him to start as soon as possible, that he might the 
sooner return with a new yoke of oxen. Then I 
could be hauled out to where medical attendance 
was to be had. 

I watched him start oif afoot, and my heart was 
heavy. But soon I stopped thinking of my pain 



40 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

and began to find ways and means to cure my lone- 
^liness. We had brought with us a number of 
I books, and these I read through most of my wak- 
ing hours. But the days grew longer and longer, 
for all that. Every morning when I woke I cut a 
notch in a long stick to mark its coming. I had 
cut twelve of these notches when one morning I 
was awakened from a sound sleep by the touch of 
a hand on my shoulder. 

Instantly concluding that Harrington had re- 
turned, I was about to cry out in delight when I 
caught a glimpse of a war-bonnet, surmounting 
the ugly, painted face of a Sioux brave. 

The brilliant colors that had been smeared on 
his visage told me more forcibly than words could 
have done that his tribe was on the warpath. It 
was a decidedly unpleasant discovery for me. 

While he was asking me in the Sioux language 
what I was doing there, and how many more were 
in the party, other braves began crowding through 
the door till the little dugout was packed as full of 
Sioux warriors as it could hold. 

Outside I could hear the stamping of horses and 
the voices of more warriors. I made up my mind 
it was all over but the scalping. 

And then a stately old brave worked his way 
through the crowd and came toward my bunk. 
It was plain from the deference accorded him by 
the others that he was a chief. And as soon as I 
set eyes on him I recognized him as old Rain-in- 
the-Face, whom I had often seen and talked with 
at Fort Laramie, and whose children taught me the 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 41 

Sioux language as we played about the wagon- 
beds together. Among these children was the son 
who succeeded to the name of Rain-in-the-Face, 
and who years later, it is asserted, killed General 
George A. Custer in the massacre of the Little 
Big Horn. 

I showed the chief my broken leg, and asked him 
if he did not remember me. He replied that he 
did. I asked him if he intended to kill the boy 
who had been his children's playmate. He con- 
sulted with his warriors, who had begun busily to 
loot the cabin. After a long parley the old man 
told me that my life would be spared, but my gun 
and pistol and all my provisions would be re- 
garded as the spoils of the war. 

Vainly I pointed out that he might as well kill 
me as leave me without food or the means to de- 
fend myself against wolves. He said that his 
young men had granted a great deal in consenting 
Jo spare my life. As for food, he pointed to the 
carcass of a deer that hung from the wall. 

The next morning they mounted their ponies 
and galloped away. I was glad enough to see 
them go. I knew that my life had hung by a 
thread while I had been their involuntary host. 
Only my friendship with the children of old Rain- 
in-the-Face had saved me. 

But, even with the Indians gone, I was in a 
desperate situation. As they had taken all my 
matches I had to keep the fire going continuously. 
This meant that I could not sleep long at a time, 
and the lack of rest soon began to tell on me. I 



42 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

would cut slices from the deer carcass with my 
knife, and holding it over the fire with a long 
stick, cook it, eating it without salt. Coffee I must 
do without altogether. 

The second day after the departure of the In- 
dians a great snow fell. The drifts blocked the 
doorway and covered the windows. It lay to a 
depth of several feet on the roof over my head. 
My woodpile was covered by the snow that drifted 
in and it was with great difficulty that I could get 
enough wood to keep my little fire going. And 
on that fire depended my life. Worse than aU 
these troubles was the knowledge that the heavy 
snow would be sure to delay Harrington. 

I would lie there, day after day, a prey to all 
sorts of dark imaginings. I fancied him killed by 
Indians on the trail, or snowbound and starving 
on the Plains. Each morning my notches on my 
calendar stick were made. Gradually their num- 
ber grew till at last the twentieth was duly cut. 
But no Harrington came. 

The wolves, smelling meat within, had now be- 
gun to gather round in increasing numbers. They 
made the night hideous with their bowlings, and 
pawed and scratched and dug at the snow by the 
doorway, determined to come in and make a meal 
of everything the dugout contained, myself in- 
cluded. 

How I endured it I do not know. But the 
Plains teach men and boys fortitude. Many and 
many a time as I lay there I resolved that if I 
should ever be spared to go back to my home 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 43 

and friends, the frontier sliould know me no 
more. 

It was on the twenty-ninth day, as marked on 
my stick, when I had about given up hope, that 
I heard a cheerful voice shouting ''Whoa!" and 
joyfully recognized it as the voice of Harrington. 
A criminal on the scaffold with the noose about 
his neck and the trap sagging underneath his 
feet could not have welcomed a pardon more 
eagerly than I welcomed my deliverance out of 
this torture-chamber. 

I could make no effort to open the door for 
him. But I found voice to answer him when 
he cried "Hello, Billy!" and in response to his 
question assured him that I was all right. He 
soon cleared a passageway through the snow, and 
stood beside me. 

"I never expected to see you alive again," he 
said; "I had a terrible trip. I didn't think I 
should ever get through — caught in the snowstorm 
and laid up for three days. The cattle wandered 
away and I came within an ace of losing them 
altogether. When I got started again the snow 
was so deep I couldn't make much headway." 

*'Well, you're here," I said, giving him a hug. 

Harrington had made a trip few men could 
have made. He had risked his life to save mine. 
All alone he had brought a yoke of oxen over a 
country where the trails were all obscured and 
the blinding snow made every added mile more 
perilous. 

I was still unable to walk, and he had to do 



44 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

all the work of packing up for the trip home. In 
a few days he had loaded the pelts on board the 
wagon, covered it with the wagon-sheet we had 
used in the dugout, and made me a comfortable 
bed inside. We had three hundred beaver and 
one hundred otter skins to show for our work. 
That meant a lot of money when we should get 
them to the settlements. 

On the eighth day of the journey home we 
reached a ranch on the Eepublican Eiver, where 
we rested for a couple of days. Then we went 
on to the ranch where Harrington had obtained 
his cattle and paid for the yoke with twenty-five 
beaver skins, the equivalent of a hundred dollars 
in money. 

At the end of twenty days' travel we reached 
Salt Creek Valley, where I was welcomed by my 
mother and sisters as one returned from the dead. 

So grateful was my mother to Harrington for 
what he had done for me that she insisted on his 
making his home with us. This he decided to 
do, and took charge of our farm. The next spring, 
this man, who had safely weathered the most 
perilous of journeys over the Plains, caught cold 
while setting out some trees and fell ill. We 
brought a doctor from Lawrence, and did every- 
thing in our power to save him, but in a week 
he died. The loss of a member of our own family 
could not have atfected us more. 

I was now in my fifteenth year and possessed 
of a growing appetite for adventure. A very few 
months had so dulled the memory of my sufferings 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 45 

in the dugout that I had forgotten all about my 
resolve to forsake the frontier forever. I looked 
about me for something new and still more ex- 
citing. 

I was not long in finding it. In April, 1860, 
the firm of Russell, Majors & Waddell organized 
the wonderful *'Pony Express," the most pic- 
turesque messenger-service that this country has 
ever seen. The route was from St. Joseph, Mis- 
souri, to Sacramento, California, a distance of 
two thousand miles, across the Plains, over a 
dreary stretch of sagebrush and alkali desert, and 
through two great mountain ranges. 

The system was really a relay race against time. 
Stations were built at intervals averaging fifteen 
miles apart. A rider's route covered three sta- 
tions, with an exchange of horses at each, so that 
he was expected at the beginning to cover close 
to forty-five miles — a good ride when one must 
average fifteen miles an hour. 

The firm undertaking the enterprise had been 
busy for some time picking the best ponies to 
be had for money, and the lightest, most wiry 
and most experienced riders. This was a life that 
appealed to me, and I struck for a job. I was 
pretty young in years, but I had already earned 
a reputation for coming safe out of perilous ad- 
ventures, and I was hired. 

Naturally our equipment was the very lightest. 
The messages which we carried were written on 
the thinnest paper to be found. These we carried 
in a waterproof pouch, slung under our arms. We 



46 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

wore only such clothing as was absolutely nec- 
essary. 

The first trip of the Pony Express was made 
in ten days — an average of two hundred miles a 
day. But we soon began stretching our riders 
and making better time. Soon we shortened the 
time to eight days. President Buchanan's last 
Presidential message in December, 1860, was car- 
ried in eight days. President Lincoln's inaugural, 
the following March, took only seven days and 
seventeen hours for the journey between St. 
Joseph and Sacramento. 

"We soon got used to the work. "When it be- 
came apparent to the men in charge that the boys 
could do better than forty-five miles a day the 
stretches were lengthened. The pay of the rider 
was from $100 to $125 a month. It was announced 
that the further a man rode the better would be 
his pay. That put speed and endurance into all 
of us. 

Stern necessity often compelled us to lengthen 
our day's work even beyond our desires. In the 
hostile Indian country, riders were frequently 
shot. In such an event the man whose relief had 
been killed had to ride on to the next station, 
doing two men's ride. Road-agents were another 
menace, and often they proved as deadly as the 
Indians. 

In stretching my own route I found myself get- 
ting further and further west. Finally I was 
riding well into the foothills of the Rockies. Still 
further west my route was pushed. Soon I rode 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 47 

from Eed Buttes to Sweetwater, a distance of 
seventy-six miles. Eoad-agents and Indians in- 
fested this country. I never was quite sure when 
I started out when I should reach my destination, 
or whether I should never reach it at all. 

One day I galloped into the station at Three 
Crossings to find that my relief had been killed 
in a drunken row the night before. There was 
no one to take his place. His route was eighty- 
five miles across country to the west. I had no 
time to think it over. Selecting a good pony out 
of the stables I was soon on my way. 

I arrived at Eocky Eidge, the end of the new 
route, on schedule time, and turning back came 
on to Eed Buttes, my starting-place. The round 
trip was 320 miles, and I made it in twenty-one 
hours and forty minutes. 

Excitement was plentiful during my two years' 
service as a Pony Express rider. One day as 
I was leaving Horse Creek, a party of fifteen 
Indians jammed me in a sand ravine eight miles 
west of the station. They fired at me repeatedly, 
but my luck held, and I went unscathed. My 
mount was a California roan pony, the fastest 
in the stables. I dug the spurs into his sides, 
and, lying flat on his back, I kept straight on 
for Sweetwater Bridge eleven miles distant. A 
turn back to Horse Creek might have brought me 
more speedily to shelter, but I did not dare risk it. 

The Indians came on behind, riding with all 
the speed they could put into their horses, but 
my pony drew rapidly ahead. I had a lead of 



48 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

two miles when I reached the station. There I 
found I could get no new pony. The stock-tender 
had been killed by the Indians during the night. 
All his ponies had been stolen and driven off. I 
kept on, therefore, to Plonts Station, twelve miles 
further along, riding the same pony — a ride of 
twenty-four miles on one mount. At Plonts I 
told the people what had happened at Sweetwater 
Bridge. Then, with a fresh horse, I finished my 
route without further adventure. 



CHAPTEE n 

About the middle of September tlie Indians be- 
came very troublesome on the line of the stage 
along the Sweetwater, between Split Eock and 
Three Crossings. A stage had been robbed and 
two passengers killed outright. Lem Flowers, the 
driver, was badly wounded. The thievish redskins 
also drove stock repeatedly from the stations. 
They were continually lying in wait for passing 
stages and Pony Express riders. It was useless 
to keep the Express going until these depreda- 
tions could be stopped. A lay-off of six weeks 
was ordered, and our time was our own. 

While we were thus idle a party was organized 
to carry the war into the Indians' own country, 
and teach them that the white man's property 
must be let alone. This party I joined. 

Stage-drivers, express-riders, stock-tenders and 
ranchmen, forty in number, composed this party. 
All were well armed; all were good shots, and 
brave, determined men. *'Wild Bill" Hickock, 
another of the Western gunmen of w^hom I shall 
have something to tell later, was captain of the ex- 
pedition. He had come recently to our division 
as a stage-driver and had the experience and 
courage necessary to that kind of leadership. 

Twenty miles out from Sweetwater Bridge, at 
the head of Horse Creek, we found an Indian trail 

49 



50 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOKY 

miming north toward Powder Eiver. We could 
see that the horses had been recently shod, con- 
clusive proof that they were our stolen stock. 
We pushed on as fast as we could along the trail 
to the Powder, thence down this stream to within 
forty miles of where old Fort Eeno now stands. 
Farther on, at Crazy Woman's Fork, we saw 
evidence that another party had joined our quarry. 
The trail was newly made. The Indians could 
be hardly more than twenty-four hours ahead of 
us. And plainly there was a lot of them. 

When we reached Clear Creek, another trib- 
utary of the Powder, we saw horses grazing on 
the opposite bank. Horses meant Indians. Never 
before had the redskins been followed so far into 
their own country. Not dreaming that they would 
be pursued they had failed to put out scouts. 

We quickly got the "lay" of their camp, and 
held a council to decide on how to attack them. 
We knew that they outnumbered us three to one 
— ^perhaps more. Without strategy, all we would 
get for our long chase would be the loss of our 
scalps. 

''Wild Bill," w^ho did not know the meaning 
of fear, made our plan for us. We were to wait 
till nightfall, and then, after creeping up as close 
as possible on the camp, make a grand ride right 
through it, open a general fire upon them, and 
stampede their horses. 

It was a plan that called for nerve, but we 
were full of spirit, and the more danger there 
was in an enterprise the more we relished it. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 51 

At our captain's signal we rushed pell-mell 
through their camp. Had we dropped from the 
clouds the Indians could not have been more 
astonished. At the sound of our shots they scat- 
tered in every direction, yelling warnings to each 
other as they fled. 

Once clear of the camp we circled to the south 
and came back to make sure that we had done a 
thorough job. A few parting shots stampeded 
the stragglers. Then, with one hundred captured 
ponies — most, if not all of them, stolen from the 
Express and State stations — we rode back to 
Sweetwater Bridge. 

The recovered horses were placed on the road 
again, and the Express was resumed. Slade, who 
was greatly pleased with our exploit, now assigned 
me as special or supernumerary rider. There- 
after while I was with him I had a comparatively 
easy time of it, riding only now and then, and 
having plenty of opportunity for seeking after 
the new adventures in which I delighted. 

Alf Slade, stage-line superintendent, frontiers- 
man, and dare-devil fighting man, was one of the 
far-famed gunmen of the Plains. These were a 
race of men bred by the perils and hard conditions 
of Western life. They became man-killers first 
from stern necessity. In that day the man who 
was not quick on the trigger had little chance 
with the outlaws among whom he had to live. 
Slade and "Wild Bill," with both of whom I be- 
came closely associated, were men of nerve and 
courage. But both, having earned the reputation 



52 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

of gun-fighters, became too eager to live up to it. 
Eventually both became outlaws. 

Slade, though always a dangerous man, and 
extremely rough in his manner, never failed to 
treat me with kindness. Sober, he was cool and 
self-possessed, but never a man to be trifled with. 
Drunk, he was a living fury. His services to the 
company for which he worked were of high value. 
He was easily the best superintendent on the line. 
But his habit of man-killing at last resulted in his 
execution. 

Another man who gained even greater notoriety 
than Slade was "Wild Bill" Hickock, a tall, yel- 
low-haired giant who had done splendid service 
as a scout in the western sector of the Civil War. 

''Wild Bill" I had known since 1857. He and 
I shared the pleasure of walking a thousand miles 
to the Missouri River, after the bull-train in which 
we both were employed had been burned by Lot 
Smith, the Mormon raider. Afterward we rode 
the Pony Express together. 

While an express rider. Bill had the fight with 
the McCandless gang which will always form an 
interesting chapter in the history of the West. 

Coming into his swing station at Rock Creek 
one day. Bill failed to arouse any one with his 
shouts for a fresh mount. This was a certain 
indication of trouble. It was the stock-tender's 
business to be on hand with a relief pony the 
instant the rider came in. The Pony Express 
did not tolerate delays. 

Galloping into the yard. Bill dismounted and 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 53 

hurried to the stable. In the door he saw the 
stock-tender lying dead, and at the same instant 
a woman's screams rang from the cabin near by. 
Turning about, Bill found himself face to face 
with a ruffian who was rushing from the house, 
brandishing a six-shooter. He asked no ques- 
tions, but pulled one of the two guns he carried 
and fired. No sooner had the man fallen, how- 
ever, than a second, also armed, came out of 
the house. Hickock disposed of this fellow also, 
and then entered the place, where four others 
opened a fusillade on him. 

Although the room was thick with smoke, and 
Bill had to use extreme care to avoid hitting the 
woman, who was screaming in the corner, he 
managed to kill two of his assailants with his 
revolvers and to ward off a blow with a rifle a 
third had leveled at him. 

The blow ^nocked the weapon from his hand, 
but his knife was still left him, and with it he 
put the man with the rifle out of the way. His 
troubles were not at an end, however. Another 
man came climbing in the window to avenge his 
fellow gangsters. Bill reached for a rifle which 
lay on the floor and shot first. 

When he took count a few minutes later he 
discovered that he had killed five men and wounded 
a sixth, who escaped in the thick of the fight. 

The woman, who had been knocked unconscious 
by one of the desperadoes, was soon revived. She 
was the stock-tender's wife, and had been attacked 
by the gang as soon as they had slain her husband. 



54 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

The passengers of the Overland stage, which 
rolled in as Bill was reviving the terrified woman, 
were given a view of Western life which none of 
them ever forgot. 

Bill was the hero of the occasion, and a real 
hero he was, for probably never has a man won 
such a victory against such terrific odds in all 
the history of the war against the ruffians of the 
West. 

It was at Springfield, Missouri, that Bill had 
his celebrated fight with Dave Tutt. The fight 
put an end to Tutt's career. I was a personal 
witness to another of his gun exploits, in which, 
though the chances were all against him, he pro- 
tected his own life and incidentally his money. 
An inveterate poker player, he got into a game 
in Springfield with big players and for high stakes. 
Sitting by the table, I noticed that he seemed 
sleepy and inattentive. So I kept a close watch 
on the other fellows. Presently I observed that 
one of his opponents was occasionally dropping a 
card in his hat, which he held in his lap, until a 
number of cards had been laid away for future 
use in the game. 

The pot had gone around several times and 
was steadily raised by some of the players. Bill 
staying right along, though he still seemed to be 
drowsy. 

' The bets kept rising. At last the man with 
the hatful of cards picked a hand out of his re- 
serves, put the hat on his head and raised Bill 
two hundred dollars. Bill came back with a 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 55 

raise of two hundred, and as the other covered it 
he quietly shoved a pistol into his face and ob- 
served : 

''I am calling the hand that is in your hat!" 

Gathering in the pot with his left hand, he 
held the pistol with his right and inquired if any 
of the players had any objections to offer. They 
hastened to reply that they had no objections 
whatever and we went away from there. 

*'Bill," I said, when we were well outside the 
place, "I had been noticing that fellow's play 
right along, but I thought you hadn't. I was 
going to get into the game myself if he beat you 
out of that money." 

''Billy," replied Hickock, "I don't want you 
ever to learn it, but that is one of my favorite 
poker tricks. It always wins against crooked 
players." 

Not all of the gunmen of the West began 
straight. Some of them — many, in fact — were 
thieves and murderers from the beginning. Such 
were the members of the McCandless gang, which 
Hickock disposed of so thoroughly. All along the 
stage route were robbers and man-killers far more 
vicious than the Indians. Very early in my career 
as a frontiersman I had an encounter with a party 
of these from which I was extremely fortunate 
to escape with my life. 

I employed the leisure afforded me by my as- 
signment as an extra rider in hunting excursions, 
in which I took a keen delight. I was returning 
home empty-handed from a bear hunt, when night 



56 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

overtook me in a lonely spot near a mountain 
stream. I had killed two sage-hens and built 
a little fire over which to broil them before my 
night's rest. 

Suddenly I heard a horse whinny farther up 
the stream. Thinking instantly of Indians, I ran 
quickly to my own horse to prevent him from 
answering the call, and thus revealing my pres- 
ence. 

Filled with uneasiness as to who and what my 
human neighbors might be, I resaddled my horse, 
and, leaving him tied where I could reach him 
in a hurry if need be, made my way up-stream 
to reconnoiter. As I came around a bend I re- 
ceived an unpleasant shock. Not one horse, 
but fifteen horses, were grazing just ahead of 
me. 

On the opposite side of the creek a light shone 
high up the mountain bank — a light from the 
window of a dugout. I drew near very cau- 
tiously till I came within sound of voices within 
the place, and discovered that its occupants were 
conversing in my own language. That relieved 
me. I knew the strangers to be white men. I 
supposed them to be trappers, and, walking boldly 
to the door, I knocked. 

Instantly the voices ceased. There ensued abso- 
lute silence for a space, and then came whisper- 
ings, and sounds of men quietly moving about 
the dirt floor. 

"Who's there?" called someone. 

"A friend and a white man," I replied. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 57 

The door opened, and a big, ugly-looking fellow 
stood before me. 

''Come in," he ordered. 

I accepted the invitation with hesitation, but 
there was nothing else to do. To retreat would 
have meant pursuit and probably death. 

Eight of the most villainous-appearing ruffians 
I have ever set eyes upon sat about the dugout 
as I entered. Two of them I recognized at once 
as teamsters who had been employed by Simpson 
a few months before. Both had been charged 
with murdering a ranchman and stealing his 
horses. Simpson had promptly discharged them, 
and it was supposed that they had left the 
country. 

I gave them no sign of recognition. I was 
laying my plans to get out of there as speedily 
as possible. I was now practically certain that 
I had uncovered the hiding-place of a gang of 
horse-thieves who could have no possible reason 
to feel anything but hostility toward an honest 
man. The leader of the gang swaggered toward 
me and inquired menacingly: 

"Where are you going, young man, and who's 
with you?" 

*'I am entirely alone," I returned. "I left 
Horseshoe Station this morning for a bear hunt. 
Not finding any bears, I was going to camp out 
till morning. I heard one of your horses whinny- 
ing, and came up to your camp." 

''Where is your horse?" 

*'I left him down the creek." 



58 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOKY 

They proposed going for the horse, which was 
my only means of getting rid of their un- 
welcome society. I tried strategy to forestall 
them. 

"I'll go and get him," I said. "I'll leave my 
gun here." 

This, I fancied, would convince them that I 
intended to return, but it didn't. 

"Jim and I will go with you," said one of the 
thieves. "You can leave your gun here if you 
want to. You won't need it." 

I saw that if I was to get away at all I would 
have to be extremely alert. These were old hands, 
and were not to be easily fooled. I felt it safer, 
however, to trust myself with two men than with 
six, so I volunteered to show the precious pair 
where I had left the horse, and led them to my 
camp. 

The animal was secured, and as one of the men 
started to lead him up the stream I picked up 
the two sage-hens I had intended for my evening 
meal. The more closely we approached the dug- 
out the less I liked the prospect of reentering it. 
One plan of escape had failed. I was sure the 
ruffians had no intention of permitting me to leave 
them and inform the stage people of their pres- 
ence in the country. 

One more plan suggested itself to me, and I 
lost no time in trying it. Dropping one of the 
sage-hens, I asked the man behind me to pick 
it up. As he was groping for it in the darkness, 
I pulled one of my Colt's revolvers, and hit him 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 59 

a terrific blow over the head. He dropped to the 
ground, senseless. 

Wheeling about, I saw that the other man, 
hearing the fall, had turned, his hand upon his 
revolver. It was no time for argument. I fired 
and killed him. Then, leaping on my horse, I 
dug the spurs into his sides, and back down the 
trail we went, over the rocks and rough ground 
toward safety. 

My peril was far from past. At the sound of 
the shot the six men in the dugout tumbled forth 
in hot haste. They stopped an instant at the scene 
of the shooting, possibly to revive the man I had 
stunned and to learn from him what had hap- 
pened. 

They were too wise to mount their horses, 
knowing that, afoot, they could make better time 
over the rocky country than I could on horseback. 
Steadily I heard them gaining, and soon made 
up my mind that if I was to evade them at all 
I must abandon my horse. 

Jumping off, I gave him a smart slap with the 
butt of my revolver which sent him down the 
valley. I turned and began to scramble up the 
mountainside. 

I had climbed hardly forty feet when I heard 
them pass, following the sound of my horse's feet. 
I dodged behind a tree as they went by, and when 
I heard them firing farther down the trail I worked 
my way up the mountainside. 

It was twenty-five miles to Horseshoe Station, 
and very hard traveling the first part of the way. 



60 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

But I got to the station just before daylight, 
weary and footsore, but exceedingly thankful. 

Tired as I was, I woke up the men at the sta- 
tion and told them of my adventure. Slade him- 
self led the party that set out to capture my 
former hosts, and I went along, though nearly 
beat out. 

Twenty of us, after a brisk ride, reached the 
dugout at ten o'clock in the morning. But the 
thieves had gone. We found a newly made grave 
where they had buried the man I had to kill, 
and a trail leading southwest toward Denver. 
That was all. But my adventure at least resulted 
in clearing the country of horse-thieves. Once 
the gang had gone, no more depredations occurred 
for a long time. 

After a year's absence from home I began to 
long to see my mother and sisters again. In June, 
1861, I got a pass over the stage-line, and re- 
turned to Leavenworth. The first rumblings of 
the great struggle that was soon to be known 
as the Civil War were already reverberating 
throughout the North ; Sumter had been fired upon 
in April of that year. Kansas, as every school- 
boy knows, was previously the bloody scene of 
some of the earliest conflicts. 

My mother's sympathies were strongly with 
the Union. She knew that war was bound to come, 
but so confident was she in the strength of the 
Federal Government that she devoutly believed 
that the struggle could not last longer than six 
months at the utmost. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 61 

Fort Leavenworth and the town of Leaven- 
worth were still important outfitting posts for 
the soldiers in the West and Southwest. The 
fort was strongly garrisoned by regular troops. 
Volunteers were undergoing training. Many of 
niy boyhood friends were enlisting. I was eager 
to join them. 

But I was still the breadwinner of the family, 
the sole support of my sisters and my invalid 
mother. Not because of this, but because of her 
love for me, my mother exacted from me a prom- 
ise that I would not enlist for the war while she 
lived. 

But during the summer of 1861 a purely local 
company, know as the Red-Legged Scouts, and 
commanded by Captain Bill Tuff, was organized. 
This I felt I could join without breaking my 
promise not to enlist for the war, and join it I 
did. The Red-Legged Scouts, while they cooper- 
ated with the regular army along the borders of 
Missouri, had for their specific duty the protec- 
tion of Kansas against raiders like Quantrell, and 
such bandits as the James Boys, the Younger 
Brothers, and other desperadoes who conducted 
a guerrilla warfare against Union settlers. 

We had plenty to do. The guerrillas were dar- 
ing fellows and kept us busy. They robbed banks, 
raided villages, burned buildings, and looted and 
plundered wherever there was loot or plunder to 
be had. 

But Tuff was the same kind of a fighting man 
as they, and working in a better cause. With his 



62 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

scouts he put the fear of the law into the hearts 
of the guerrillas, and they notably decreased their 
depredations in consequence. 

Whenever and wherever we found that the scat- 
tered bands were getting together for a general 
raid we would at once notify the regulars at Fort 
Scott or Fort Leavenworth to be ready for them. 
Quantrell once managed to collect a thousand 
men in a hurry, and to raid and sack Lawrence 
before the troops could head them 6ff. But when 
we got on their trail they were driven speedily; 
back into Missouri. 

In the meantime we took care that little mis- 
chief was done by the gangs headed by the James 
Boys and the Youngers, who operated in Quan- 
trell's wake and in small bands. 

In the spring of '63 I left the Red-Legged 
Scouts to serve the Federal Government as guide 
and scout with the Ninth Kansas Cavalry. The 
Kiowas and Comanches were giving trouble along 
the old Santa Fe trail and among the settlements 
of western Kansas. The Ninth Kansas were sent 
to tame them and to protect immigrants and set- 
tlers. 

This was work that I well understood. We 
had a lively summer, for the Indians kept things 
stirring, but after a summer of hard fighting we 
made them understand that the Great White Chief 
was a power that the Indians had better not irri- 
tate. November, '63, I returned with the com- 
mand to Leavenworth. I had money in my 
pockets, for my pay had been $150 a month, and 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 63 

I was able to lay in an abundant supply of pro- 
visions for my family. 

On the twenty-tbird day of December my mother 
passed away. Her life had been an extremely 
hard one, but she had borne up bravely under 
poverty and privation, supplying with her own 
teaching the education that the frontier schools 
could not give her children, and by her Christian 
example setting them all on a straight road 
through life. 

Border ruffians killed her husband, almost 
within sight of her home. She passed months 
in terror and distress and, until I became old 
enough to provide for her, often sutfered from 
direst poverty. Yet she never complained for 
herself; her only thoughts being for her children 
and the sufferings that were visited upon them 
because of their necessary upbringing in a rough 
and wild country. 

My sister Julia was now married to Al Good- 
man, a fine and capable young man, and I was 
free to follow the promptings of an adventurous 
nature and go where my companions were fight- 
ing. In January, 1864, the Seventh Kansas Vol- 
unteers came to Leavenworth from the South, 
where they had been fighting since the early years 
of the war. Among them I found many of my 
old friends and schoolmates. I was no longer 
under promise not to take part in the war and 
I enlisted as a private. 

In March of that year the regiment was em- 
barked on steamboats and sent to Memphis, Ten- 



64 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

nessee, where we joined the conunand of General 
A. J. Smith. General Smith was organizing an 
army to fight the illiterate but brilliant Con- 
federate General Forrest, who was then mak- 
ing a great deal of trouble in southern Tennes- 
see. 

While we were mobilizing near Memphis, Colo- 
nel Herrick of our regiment recommended me to 
General Smith for membership in a picked corps 
to be used for duty as scouts, messengers, and 
dispatch carriers. Colonel Herrick recounted my 
history as a plainsman, which convinced the com- 
mander that I would be useful in this special line 
of duty. 

When I reported to General Smith, he invited 
me into his tent and inquired minutely into my 
life as a scout. 

"You ought to be able to render me valuable 
service," he said. 

When I replied that I should be only too glad 
to do so, he got out a map of Tennessee, and 
on it showed me where he believed General For- 
rest's command to be located. His best informa- 
tion was that the Confederate commander was 
then in the neighborhood of Okolona, Mississippi, 
about two hundred miles south of Memphis. 

He instructed me to disguise myself as a Ten- 
nessee boy, to provide myself with a farm horse 
from the stock in the camp, and to try to locate 
Forrest's main command. Having accomplished 
this, I was to gather all the information possible 
concerning the enemy's strength in men and equip- 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 65 

ment and defenses, and to make my way back as 
speedily as possible. 

General Smith expected to start south the fol- 
lowing morning, and he showed me on the map 
the wagon road he planned to follow, so that I 
might know where to find him on my return. He 
told me before we parted that the mission on 
which he was sending me was exceedingly dan- 
gerous. **If you are captured," he said, ''you 
will be shot as a spy." 

To this I replied that my Indian scouting trips 
had been equally dangerous, as capture meant 
torture and death, yet I had always willingly un- 
dertaken them. 

"Do you think you can find Forrest's army?" 
he said. "Well, if you can't find an army as big 
as that you're a mighty poor scout," he said 
grimly. 

General Smith then turned me over to the man 
who was in charge of what was called "the refuge 
herd," from which I found a mount built on the 
lines of the average Tennessee farm horse. This 
man also provided me with a suit of farmer's 
clothing, for which I exchanged my new soldier 
uniform, and a bag of provisions. Leading me 
about a mile from camp, he left me with the 
warning : 

"Look out, young fellow. You're taking a 
dangerous trip." Then we shook hands and I 
began my journey. 

I had studied carefully the map General Smith 
had shown me, and had a fairly accurate idea of 



66 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

the direction I was supposed to take. Following 
a wagon road that led to the south, I made nearly 
sixty miles the first night. The mare I had chosen 
proved a good traveler. 

When morning came I saw a big plantation, 
with the owner's and negroes' houses, just ahead 
of me. I was anxious to learn how my disguise 
was going to work, and therefore rode boldly 
up to the house of the overseer and asked if I 
could get rest and some sort of breakfast. 

In response to his inquiries I said I was a 
Tennesseean, and on my way to Holly Springs. 
I used my best imitation of the Southern dialect, 
which I can still use on occasion, and it was 
perfectly successful. I was given breakfast, my 
mare was fed, and I slept most of the day in a 
haystack, taking up my journey again immedi- 
ately after dinner. 

Thereafter I had confidence in my disguise, 
and, while making no effort to fall into conversa- 
tion with people, I did not put myself out to 
evade anyone whom I met. None of those with 
whom I talked suspected me of being a Northern 
spy. 

At the end of a few days I saw that I was 
near a large body of troops. It was in the morn- 
ing after a hard day-and-night ride. Fearing to 
approach the outposts looking weary and fagged 
out, I rested for an hour, and then rode up and 
accosted one of them. To his challenge I said 
I was a country boy, and had come in to see 
the soldiers. My father and brother, I said, were 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 67 

fighting with Forrest, and I was almost persuaded 
to enlist myself. 

My story satisfied the guard and I was passed. 
A little farther on I obtained permission to pas- 
ture my horse with a herd of animals belonging 
to the Confederates and, afoot, I proceeded to 
the camp of the soldiers. By acting the part of 
the rural Tennesseean, making little purchases 
from the negro food-stands, and staring open- 
mouthed at all the camp life, I picked up a great 
deal of information without once falling under 
suspicion. 

The question now uppermost in my mind was 
how I was going to get away. Toward evening 
I returned to the pasture, saddled my mare and 
rode to the picket line where I had entered. Here, 
to my dismay, I discovered that the outposts had 
been recently changed. 

But I used the same story that had gained ad- 
mission for me. In a sack tied to my saddle were 
the food supplies I had bought from the negroes 
during the day. These, i explained to the out- 
posts, were intended as presents for my mother 
and sisters back on the farm. They examined 
the sack, and, finding nothing contraband in it, 
allowed me to pass. 

I now made all possible speed northward, keep- 
ing out of sight of houses and of strangers. On 
the second day I passed several detachments of 
Forrest's troops, but my training as a scout en- 
abled me to keep them from seeing me. 

Though my mare had proven herself an animal 



68 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

of splendid endurance, I had to stop and rest 
her occasionally. At such times I kept closely 
hidden. It was on the second morning after 
leaving Forrest's command that I sighted the 
advance guard of Smith's army. They halted 
me when I rode up, and for a time I had more 
trouble with them than I had had with any of 
Forrest's men. I was not alarmed, however, and 
when the captain told me that he would have to 
send me to the rear, I surprised him by asking 
to see General Smith. 

''Are you anxious to see a big, fighting gen- 
eral?" he asked in amazement. 

''Yes," I said. "I hear that General Smith 
can whip Forrest, and I would like to see any 
man who can do that." 

Without any promises I was sent to the rear, 
and presently I noticed General Smith, who, how- 
ever, failed to recognize me. 

I managed, however, to draw near to him and 
ask him if I might speak to him for a moment. 

Believing me to be a Confederate prisoner, he 
assented, and when I had saluted I said: 

"General, I am Billy Cody, the man you sent 
out to the Confederate lines." 

"Report back to your charge," said the general 
to the officer who had me in custody. "I will 
take care of this man." 

My commander was much pleased with my re- 
port, which proved to be extremely accurate and 
valuable. The disguise he had failed to penetrate 
did not deceive my comrades of the Ninth Kan- 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 69 

sas, and when I passed them they all called me 
by name and asked me where I had been. But 
my news was for my superior officers, and I did 
not need the warning Colonel Herrick gave me 
to keep my mouth shut while among the soldiers. 

General Smith, to whom I later made a full 
detailed report, had spoken highly of my work 
to Colonel Herrick, who was gratified to know 
that his choice of a scout had been justified by 
results. 

It was not long before the whole command knew 
of my return, but beyond the fact that I had 
been on a scouting expedition, and had brought 
back information much desired by the commander, 
they knew nothing of my journey. The next morn- 
ing, still riding the same mare and still wearing 
my Tennessee clothes, I rode out with the entire 
command in the direction of Forrest's army. 

Before I had traveled five miles I had been 
pointed out to the entire command, and cheers 
greeted me on every side. As soon as an oppor- 
tunity oifered I got word with the general and 
asked if he had any further special orders for me. 

''Just keep around," he said; *'I may need you 
later on." 

*'But I am a scout," I told him, ''and the place 
for a scout is ahead of the army, getting informa- 
tion." 

"Go ahead," he replied, "and if you see any- 
thing that I ought to know about come back and 
tell me." 

Delighted to be a scout once more, I made my 



70 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

way forward. The general had given orders that 
I was to be allowed to pass in and out the lines 
at will, so that I was no longer hampered by the 
activities of my own friends. I had hardly got 
beyond the sound of the troops when I saw a 
beautiful plantation house, on the porch of which 
was a handsome old lady and her two attractive 
daughters. 

They were greatly alarmed when I came up, 
and asked if I didn't know that the Yankee army 
would be along in a few minutes and that my life 
was in peril. All their own men folks, they said, 
were in hiding in the timber. 

** Don't you sit here," begged the old lady, when 
I had seated myself on the porch to sip a glass 
of milk for which I had asked her. ' ' The Yankee 
troops will go right through this house. They 
will break up the piano and every stick of furni- 
ture, and leave the place in ruins. You are sure 
to be killed or taken prisoner," 

By this time the advance guard was coming up 
the road. General Smith passed as I was stand- 
ing on the porch. I saw that he had noticed me, 
though he gave no sign of having done so. As 
more troops passed, men began leaving their com- 
panies and rushing toward the house. I walked 
out and ordered them away in the name of the 
general. They all knew who I was, and obeyed, 
much to the astonishment of the old lady and 
her daughter. 

Turning to my hostess, I said: 

** Madam, I can't keep them out of your chicken- 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 71 

house or your smoke-house or your storerooms, 
but I can keep them out of your home, and I will.'* 

I remained on the porch till the entire command 
had passed. Nothing was molested. Much 
pleased, but still puzzled, the old lady was now 
convinced that I was no Tennessee lad, but a 
sure-enough Yankee, and one with a remarkable 
amount of influence. When I asked for a little 
something to eat in return for what I had done, 
the best there was in the house was spread be- 
fore me. 

My hostess urged me to eat as speedily as 
possible, and be on my way. Her men folks, 
she said, would soon return from the timber, and 
if they learned that I was a Yank would shoot 
me on the spot. As she was speaking the back 
door was pushed open and three men rushed in. 
The old lady leaped between them and me. 

"Don't shoot him!" she cried. ''He has pro- 
tected our property and our lives." But the men 
had no murderous intentions. 

"Give him all he wants to eat," said the eldest, 
"and we will see that he gets back to the Yankee 
lines in safety. We saw him from the treetops 
turn away the Yanks as he stood on the porch. ' ' 

While I finished my meal they put all manner 
of questions to me, being specially impressed that 
a boy so young could have kept a great army from 
foraging so richly stocked a plantation. I told 
them that I was a Union scout, and that I had 
saved their property on my own responsibility. 

' ' I knew you would be back here, ' ' I said. ' ' But 



72 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

I was sure you wouldn't shoot me when you 
learned what I had done." 

"You bet your life we won't!" they said 
heartily. 

After dinner I was stocked up with all the pro- 
visions I wanted, and given a fine bottle of peach 
brandy, the product of the plantation. Then the 
men of the place escorted me to the rear-guard 
of the command, which I lost no time in joining. 
When I overtook the general and presented him 
with the peach brandy, he said gruffly : 

"I hear you kept all the men from foraging 
on that plantation back yonder." 

"Yes, sir," I said. "An old lady and her two 
daughters were alone there. My mother had suf- 
fered from raids of hostile soldiers in Kansas. 
I tried to protect that old lady, as I would have 
liked another man to protect my mother in her 
distress. I am sorry if I have disobeyed your 
orders and I am ready for any punishment you 
wish to inflict on me." 

"My boy," said the general, "you may be too 
good-hearted for a soldier, but you have done 
just what I would have done. My orders were 
to destroy all Southern property. But we will 
forget your violation of them." 

General Smith kept straight on toward For- 
rest's stronghold. Ten miles from the spot where 
the enemy was encamped, he wheeled to the left 
and headed for Tupedo, Mississippi, reaching 
there at dark. Forrest speedily discovered that 
Smith did not intend to attack him on his own 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 73 

ground. So he broke camp, and, coming up to 
the rear, continued a hot fire through the next 
afternoon. 

Arriving near Tupedo, General Smith selected, 
as a battleground, the crest of a ridge command- 
ing the position Forrest had taken up. Between 
the two armies lay a plantation of four or five 
thousand acres. The next morning Forrest dis- 
mounted some four thousand cavalry, and with 
cavalry and artillery on his left and right ad- 
vanced upon our position. 

Straight across the plantation they came, while 
Smith rode back and forth behind the long breast- 
works that protected his men, cautioning them to 
reserve their fire till it could be made to tell. All 
our men were fighting with single shotguns. The 
first shot, in a close action, had to count, or a 
second one might never be fired. 

I had been detailed to follow Smith as he rode 
to and fro. With an eye to coming out of the 
battle with a whole skin I had picked out a number 
of trees, behind which I proposed to drop my horse 
when the fighting got to close quarters. This 
was the fashion I had always employed in Indian 
fighting. As the Confederates got within good 
range, the order **Fire!" rang out. 

At that instant I wheeled my horse behind a 
big oak tree. Unhappily for me the general was 
looking directly at me as this maneuver was ex- 
ecuted. When we had driven back and defeated 
Forrest's men I was ordered to report at General 
Smith's tent. 



74 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

"Young man," said the General, when I stood 
before him, "you were recommended to me as 
an Indian fighter. What were you doing behind 
that tree?" 

"That is the way we have to fight Indians, sir,*' 
I said. "We get behind anything that offers pro- 
tection." It was twelve years later that I con- 
vinced General Smith that my theory of Indian 
fighting was pretty correct. 

After the consolidation of the regular army, 
following the war. Smith was sent to the Plains 
as Colonel of the Seventh Cavalry. This was 
afterward known as Custer's regiment, and we 
engaged in the battle of the Little Big Horn, in 
which that gallant commander was slain. Smith's 
cavalry command was moving southward on an 
expedition against the Kiowas and Comanches in 
the Canadian River country, when I joined it as 
a scout. 

Dick Curtis, acting as guide for Smith, had 
been sent on ahead across the river, while the 
main command stopped to water their horses. 
Curtis 's orders were to proceed straight ahead 
for five miles, where the troops would camp. He 
was followed immediately by the advance guard, 
Smith and his staff following on. We had pro- 
ceeded about three miles when three or four hun- 
dred Indians attacked us, jumping out of gullies 
and ravines, where they had been securely hidden. 
General Smith at once ordered the orderlies to 
sound the recall and retreat, intending to fall 
b^ck quickly on the main command. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 75 

He was standing close beside a deep ravine as 
he gave the order. Knowing that the plan he pro- 
posed meant the complete annihilation of our 
force, I pushed my horse close to him. 

*' General," I said, ''order your men into the 
ravine, dismount, and let number fours hold 
horses. Then you will be able to stand off the 
Indians. If you try to retreat to the main com- 
mand you and every man under you will be killed 
before you have retreated a mile." 

He immediately saw the sense of my advice. 
Issuing orders to enter the ravine, he dismounted 
with his men behind the bank. There we stood 
off the Indians till the soldiers in the rear, hearing 
the shots, came charging to the rescue and drove 
the Indians away. The rapidity with which we 
got into the ravine, and the protection its banks 
afforded us, enabled us to get away without losing 
a man. Had the general's original plan been 
carried out none of us would have come away 
to tell the story. I was summoned to the general 's 
tent that evening. 

*'That was a brilliant suggestion of yours, 
young man," he said. ''This Indian fighting is 
a new business to me. I realize that if I had 
carried out my first order not a man of us would 
ever have reached the command alive." 

I said: "General, do you remember the battle 
of Tupedo?" 

"I do," he said, with his chest expanding a 
little. "I was in command at that battle." The 
whipping of Forrest had been a particularly diffi- 



76 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

cult and unusual feat, and General Smith never 
failed to show his pride in the achievement when- 
ever the battle of Tupedo was mentioned. 

**Do you remember," I continued, ''the young 
fellow you caught behind a tree, and sent for him 
afterward to ask him why he did so?" 

"Is it possible you are the man who found 
Forrest 's command f " he asked in amazement. ' ' I 
had often wondered what became of you," he 
said, when I told him I was the same man. * ' What 
have you been doing since the war?" 

I told him I had come West as a scout for 
General Sherman in 1865 and had been scouting 
ever since. He was highly delighted to see me 
again, and from that time forward, as long as 
he remained on the Plains, I resumed my old 
position as his chief scout. 

After the battle of Tupedo, Smith's conunand 
was ordered to Memphis, and from there sent by 
boat up the Mississippi. We of the cavalry dis- 
embarked at Cape Jardo, Smith remaining behind 
with the infantry, which came on later. General 
Sterling Price, of the Confederate army, was at 
this time coming out of Arkansas into southern 
Missouri with a large army. His purpose was to 
invade Kansas. 

Federal troops were not then plentiful in the 
West. Smith's army from Tennessee, Blunt 's 
troops from Kansas, what few regulars there 
were in Missouri, and some detachments of Kan- 
sas volunteers were all being moved forward to 
head off Price. Being still a member of the Ninth 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 77 

Kansas Cavalry, I now found myself back in my 
old country — just ahead of Price's army, which 
had now reached the fertile northwestern Mis- 
souri. 

In carrying dispatches from General McNeil 
to General Blunt or General Pleasanton I passed 
around and through Price 's army many times. I 
always wore the disguise of a Confederate soldier, 
and always escaped detection. Price fought hard 
and successfully, gaining ground steadily, till 
at Westport, Missouri, and other battlefields near 
the Kansas line, the Federal troops checked his 
advance. 

At the Little Blue, a stream that runs through 
what is now Kansas City, he was finally turned 
south, and took up a course through southern 
Kansas. 

Near Mound City a scouting party of which I 
was a member surprised a small detachment of 
Price 's army. Our advantage was such that they 
surrendered, and while we were rounding them 
up I heard one of them say that we Yanks had 
captured a bigger prize than we suspected. When 
he was asked what this prize consisted of, the 
soldier said: 

''That big man over yonder is General Mar- 
maduke of the Southern army." 

I had heard much of Marmaduke and greatly 
admired his dash and ability as a fighting man. 
Going over to him, I asked if there was anything 
I could do to make him comfortable. He said 
that I could. He hadn't had a bite to eat, and 



'78 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

he wanted some food and wanted it right 
away. 

He was surrounding a good lunch I had in my 
saddle-bag, while I was ransacking the saddle-bag 
of a comrade for a bottle of whisky which I knew 
to be there. 

When we turned our prisoners over to the main 
command I was put in charge of General Mar- 
maduke and accompanied him as his custodian to 
Fort Leavenworth. The general and I became 
fast friends, and our friendship lasted long after 
the war. Years after he had finished his term 
as Governor of Missouri he visited me in London, 
where I was giving my Wild West Show. He 
was talking with me in my tent one day when 
the Earl of Lonsdale and Lord Harrington rode 
up, dismounted, and came over to where we were 
sitting. 

I presented Marmaduke to them as the gov- 
ernor of one of America's greatest States and a 
famous Confederate general. Lonsdale, approach- 
ing and extending his hand, smiled and said : 

*' Ah, Colonel Cody, another one of your Yankee 
friends, eh I" 

Marmaduke, who had risen, scowled. But he 
held out his hand. ''Look here," he said, "I am 
much pleased to meet you, sir, but I want you 
first to understand distinctly that I am no Yank." 

When I left General Marmaduke at Leaven- 
worth and returned to my command, Price was 
already in retreat. After driving him across the 
Arkansas River I returned with my troop to 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 79 

Springfield, Missouri. From there I went, under 
General McNeil, to Fort Smith and other places 
on the Arkansas border, where he had several 
lively skirmishes, and one big and serious en- 
gagement before the war was ended. 

The spring of 1865 found us again in Spring- 
field, where we remained about two months, re- 
cuperating and replenishing our stock. I now got 
a furlough of thirty days and went to St. Louis, 
where I invested part of a thousand dollars I 
had saved in fashionable clothes and in rooms at 
one of the best hotels. It was while there that 
I met a young lady of a Southern family, to whom 
I paid a great deal of attention, and from whom 
I finally extracted a promise that if I would come 
back to St. Louis at the end of the war she would 
marry me. 

On my return to Springfield I found an expedi- 
tion in process of fitting out for a scouting trip 
through New Mexico and into the Arkansas Eiver 
country, to look after the Indians. With this party 
I took part in a number of Indian fights and 
helped to save a number of immigrant trains 
from destruction. On our return to Fort Leaven- 
worth we found General Sanborn and a number 
of others of the former Union leaders who had 
come to the border to make peace with the Indians. 

The various tribes that roamed the Plains had 
heard of the great war, and, believing that it 
had so exhausted the white man that he would 
fall an easy prey to Indian aggression, had be- 
gun to arm themselves and make ready for great 



80 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

conquests. They had obtained great stores of 
arms and anununition. During the last two years 
of the war they had been making repeated raids 
and inflicting vast damage on the settlers. 

At the close of the war, when the volunteers 
were discharged, I was left free to return to my 
old calling. The regular army was in course of 
consolidation. Men who had been generals were 
compelled to serve as colonels and majors. The 
consolidated army's chief business was in the 
West, where the Indians formed a real menace, 
and to the West came the famous fighting men 
under v/hose command I was destined to spend 
many of the eventful years to come. 



CHAPTER III 

At the close of the war, General William Tecum- 
seh Sherman was placed at the head of the Peace 
Commission which had been sent to the border 
to take counsel with the Indians. It had become 
necessary to put an end to the hostility of the red 
man immediately either by treaty or by force. 
His raids on the settlers could be endured no 
longer. 

The purpose of the party which Sherman headed 
was to confer with the greatest of the hostile 
chiefs. Treaties were to be agreed upon if pos- 
sible. If negotiations for peace failed, the council 
would at least act as a stay of hostilities. The 
army was rapidly reorganizing, and it would soon 
be possible to mobilize enough troops to put down 
the Indians in case they refused to come to terms 
peaceably. 

The camp of the Kiowas and Comanches — the 
first Indians with whom Sherman meant to deal 
— ^was about three hundred miles southwest of 
Leavenworth, in the great buffalo range, and in 
the midst of the trackless Plains. 

By ambulance and on horseback, with wagons 
to carry the supplies, the party set out for its first 
objective — Council Springs on the Arkansas River, 
about sixty miles beyond old Fort Zarrah. 

I was chosen as one of the scouts or dispatch 

81 



82 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

carriers to accompany the party. The guide was 
Dick Curtis, a plainsman of wide experience 
among the Indians. 

When we arrived at Fort Zarrah we found 
that no road lay beyond, and learned that there 
was no water on the way. It was determined, 
therefore, to make a start at two o'clock in the 
morning. Curtis said this would enable us to 
reach our destination, sixty-five miles further on, 
by two o'clock the next afternoon. 

The outfit consisted of two ambulances and one 
Government wagon, which carried the tents and 
supplies. Each officer had a horse to ride if he 
chose. If he preferred to ride in the ambulance 
his orderly was on hand to lead his horse for him. 

We traveled steadily till ten o 'clock in the morn- 
ing, through herds of buffalo whose numbers were 
past counting. I remember that General Sherman 
estimated that the number of buffalo on the Plains 
at that time must have been more than eleven 
million. It required all the energy of the soldiers 
and scouts to keep a road cleared through the 
herds so that the ambulance might pass. 

We breakfasted during the morning stop and 
rested the horses. For the men there was plenty 
of water, which we had brought along in canteens 
and camp kettles. There was also a little for the 
animals, enough to keep them from suffering on 
the way. 

Two o'clock found us still making our way 
through the buffalo herds, but with no Council 
Springs in sight. Curtis was on ahead, and one 




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BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 83 

of the lieutenants, feeling a little nervous, rode 
up to another of the scouts. 

**How far are we from the Springs T' he in- 
quired. 

*'I don't know," said the guide uneasily. *'I 
never was over here before, but if any one knows 
where the Springs are that young fellow over 
there does." He pointed to me. 

**When will we get to the Springs?" asked the 
officer, turning in my direction. 

"Never — if we keep on going the way we are 
now," I said. 

*'Why don't you tell the General that?" he de- 
manded. 

I said that Curtis was the guide, not I; where- 
upon he dropped back alongside the ambulance 
in which Sherman was riding and reported what 
had happened. 

The General instantly called a halt and sent 
for the scouts. When all of us, including Curtis, 
had gathered round him he got out of the ambu- 
lance, and, pulling out a map, directed Curtis to 
locate the Springs on it. 

''There has never been a survey made of this 
country. General," said Curtis. "None of these 
maps are correct." 

"I know that myself," said Sherman. "How 
far are we from the Springs'?" 

The guide hesitated. "I have never been there 
but once," he said, "and then I was with a big 
party of Indians who did the guiding. ' ' He added 
that on a perfectly flat country, dotted with buf- 



84 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

falo, lie could not positively locate our destina- 
tion. Unless we were sighted and guided by In- 
dians we would liave to chance it. 

Sherman swung round on the rest of us. ''Do 
any of you know where the Springs are?" he 
asked, looking directly at me. 

"Yes, sir," I said, "I do." 

"How do you know, Billy?" asked Curtis. 

"I used to come over here with Charley Rath, 
the Indian trader," I said. 

"Where are we now?" asked Sherman. 

"About twelve miles from the Springs. They 
are due south." 

"Due south! And we are traveling due west!" 

"Yes, sir," I replied, "but if Mr. Curtis had 
not turned in a few minutes I was going to tell 
you. ' ' 

So for twelve miles I rode with Sherman, and 
we became fast friends. He asked me all manner 
of questions on the way, and I found that he knew 
my father well, and remembered his tragic death 
in Salt Creek Valley. He asked what had become 
of the rest of the family and all about my career. 
By the end of the ride I had told him my life 
history. 

As we were riding along together, with the out- 
fit following on, I noticed pony tracks from time 
to time, and knew that we were nearing the 
Springs. Presently I said: 

"General, we are going to find Indians at the 
Springs when we reach there." 

"How do you know?" 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 85 

**We have been riding where ponies have been 
grazing for the last mile. ' ' 

''I haven't seen any tracks," said the General 
in surprise. ''Show me one." 

I jumped off my horse, and, thrusting the buffalo 
grass aside, I pointed out many tracks of bare- 
footed ponies. ''When we rise that ridge," I 
told him, "we shall see the village, and thousands 
of ponies and Indian lodges." 

In a very few minutes this prophecy came true. 
Curtis and the other scouts with the officers rode 
up quickly behind us, and we all had a fine view 
of this wonderful sight of the desert — a great 
Indian camp. As we stood gazing at the spectacle 
we observed great excitement in the village. War- 
riors by the dozens were leaping on their horses 
and riding toward us, till at least a thousand of 
them were in the ' ' receiving line. ' ' 

"It looks to me as if we had better fall into 
position," said Sherman. 

"It is not necessary," I said. "They have 
given us the peace sign. They are coming toward 
us without arms." 

So Sherman, with General Harney, General 
Sanborn, and the other officers rode slowly for- 
ward to meet the oncoming braves. 

"This is where you need Curtis," I told the 
General as he advanced. "He is the best Kiowa 
and Comanche interpreter on the Plains and he 
knows every one of these Indians personally." 

Curtis was accordingly summoned and made in- 
terpreter, while I was assigned to remain about 



86 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

the commander's tent and given charge of the 
scouts. 

As the Indians drew near with signs of friend- 
liness, Curtis introduced the chiefs, Satanta, Lone 
Wolf, Kicking Bird, and others to General Sher- 
man as the head of the Peace Commission. 

The Indians, having been notified in advance 
of the coming of the Commission, had already 
selected a special spring for our camp and had 
prepared a great feast in honor of the meeting. 
To this feast, which was spread in the center of 
the village, the Commissioners were conducted, 
while the scouts and the escort went into 
camp. 

The Indians had erected a great canopy of 
tanned buffalo skins on tepee poles. Underneath 
were robes for seats for the General and his staff, 
and thither they were led with great ceremony. 
Near by was a great fire on which buffalo, an- 
telope, and other animals were roasting. Even 
coffee and sugar had been provided, and the feast 
was served with tin plates for the meat and tin 
cups for the coffee. Another tribute to the cus- 
toms of the guests was a complete outfit of knives 
and forks. Napkins, however, appeared to be 
lacking. 

Indian girls, dressed in elaborate costumes, 
served the repast, the elder women preparing the 
food. Looking on, it seemed to me to be the most 
beautiful sight I had ever seen — the grim old gen- 
erals, who for the last four and a half years had 
been fighting a great war sitting serenely and 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 87 

contentedly down to meat and drink with the 
chiefs of a wild, and, till lately, a hostile race. 

After all had eaten, the great chief, Satanta, 
loaded the big peace-pipe, whose bowl was hewn 
from red stone, with a beautifully carved stem 
eighteen inches long. The pipe was passed from 
mouth to mouth around the circle. After the 
smoke was ended Satanta raised his towering 
bulk above the banqueters. He drew his red 
blanket around his broad shoulders, leaving his 
naked right arm free, for without his right arm 
an Indian is deprived of his real powers of ora- 
tory. Making signs to illustrate his every sen- 
tence, he spoke: 

^'My great white brothers, I welcome you to 
my camp and to my people. You can rest in 
safety, without a thought of fear, because our 
hearts are now good to you — ^because we hope 
that the words you are going to speak to us will 
make us glad that you have come. We know 
that you have come a long way to see us. We 
feel that you are going to give us or send us 
presents which will gladden the hearts of all my 
people. 

''I know that you must be very tired, and as 
I see that your tents are pitched it would make 
our hearts glad to walk over to your village with 
you, where you can rest and sleep well, and we 
hope that you will dream of the many good things 
you are going to send us and tell us when you 
are rested. 

**I have sent to your tents the choicest of young 



88 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

buffalo, deer, and antelope, and if there is any- 
thing else in my camp which will make your hearts 
glad I will he pleased to send it to you. If any 
of your horses should stray away, my young men 
;will bring them back to you." 

As the old chief concluded, General Sherman, 
rising, shook his hand and said: 

*'My red brother, your beautiful and romantic 
reception has deeply touched the hearts of my 
friends and myself. We most heartily thank you 
for it. When we are rested, and after we have 
slept in your wild prairie city, we should like to 
hold a council with the chiefs and warriors con- 
gregated here." 

When the officers returned to their own camp 
they agreed that the feast was very grand, that 
the Indian maidens who served it were very pretty 
in their gay costumes and beautiful moccasins. 
Most of them, however, had observed that the 
hands of the squaws who did the cooking looked 
as if they had not touched water for several 
months. It stuck in the memory of some of the 
guests that, in their efforts to clean the tinware, 
the squaws had left more soap in the corners than 
was necessary. The coffee had a strong flavor of 
soap. 

*'If we are going to have a banquet every day," 
said one officer, "I think I'll do my eating in our 
own camp." 

General Sherman reminded him that this would 
be highly impolite to the hosts, and ordered them, 
as soldiers, to make the best of the entertainment 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 89 

and to line up for mess when the Indians made 

a feast. 

At ten o'clock the next morning the first session 
of the great council was held. For three days 
the white chiefs and the red chiefs sat in a circle 
under the canopy, and many promises of friend- 
ship were made by the Indians. When the council 
was concluded, General Sherman sent for me. 

''Billy," he said, *'I want you to send two good 
men to Fort Ellsworth with dispatches, where 
they can be forwarded to Fort Eiley, the end of 
the telegraph line. After your men are rested 
they can return to Fort Zarrah and join us." 
When the two men were instructed by the General 
and were on their way, he took me into his tent. 

*'I want to go to Bent's Fort on the Arkansas 
Kiver," he said, ''then to Fort St. Barine, on 
the Platte, and then to Laramie; after that we 
will go to Cottonwood Springs, then to Fort 
Kearney and then to Leavenworth. Can you 
guide me on that trip V 

I told him that I could, and was made guide, 
chief of scouts, and master of transportation, act- 
ing with an army officer as quartermaster. 

At Bent's Fort another council of two days 
was held with the Indians. The journey home- 
ward was made without difficulty. At Leaven- 
worth I took leave of one of the noblest and kind- 
est-hearted men I have ever known. In bidding 
me good-by. General Sherman said: 

"I don't think these councils we have held will 
amount to much. There was no sincerity in the 



90 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

Indians' promises. I will see that the promises 
we made to them are carried out to the letter, 
but when the grass grows in the spring they wiU 
be, as usual, on the warpath. As soon as the 
regular army is organized it will have to be sent 
out here on the border to quell fresh Indian up- 
risings, because these Indians will give us no 
peace till they are thoroughly thrashed." 

The General thanlied me for my services, and 
told me he was very lucky to find me. ''It is not 
possible that I will be with the troops when they 
come," he said. "They will be commanded by 
General Philip Sheridan. You will like Sheridan. 
He is your kind of a man. I will tell him about 
you when I see him. I expect to hear great re- 
ports of you when you are guiding the United 
States army over the Plains, as you have so faith- 
fully guided me. The quartermaster has instruc- 
tions to pay you at the rate of $150 a month, and 
as a special reward I have ordered that you be 
paid $2000 extra. Good-by! I know you will 
have good luck, for you know your business." 

After the departure of General Sherman I made 
a brief visit to my sisters in Salt Creek Valley, 
and for a time, there being no scouting work 
to do, drove stage between Plum Creek and Fort 
Kearney. 

I was still corresponding with Miss Frederici, 
the girl I had left behind me in St. Louis. My 
future seemed now secure, so I decided that it 
was high time I married and settled down, if a 
scout can ever settle down. So, surrendering my 



1 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN" STGEY 91 

stage job, I returned to Leavenworth and em- 
barked for St. Louis by boat. After a week's 
visit at the home of my fiancee we were quietly 
married at her home. I made, I suppose, rather 
a wild-looking groom. My brown hair hung down 
over my shoulders, and I had just started a little 
mustache and goatee. I was dressed in the West- 
em fashion, and my appearance was, to say the 
least, unusual. We were married at eleven o 'clock 
in the morning, and took the steamer Morning 
Star at two in the afternoon for our honeymoon 
journey home. 

As we left our carriages and entered the 
steamer, my wife 's father and mother and a num- 
ber of friends accompanying us, I noticed that 
I was attracting' considerable excited attention. 
A number of people, men and women, were on 
the deck. As we passed I heard them whispering : 

** There he is! That's him! I'd know him in 
the dark!" 

It was very plain to me that these observations 
were not particularly friendly. The glares cast 
at me were openly hostile. While we were dis- 
posing our baggage in our stateroom — I had hired 
the bridal chamber — I heard some of my wife's 
friends asking her father if he knew who I was, 
and whether I had any credentials. He replied 
that he had left the matter of credentials to his 
daughter. 

"Well," said one of the party, ** these people 
on board are excursionists from Independence, 
and they say this son-in-law of yours is the most 



92 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

desperate outlaw, bandit, and house-burner on the 
frontier ! ' ' 

The old gentleman was considerably disturbed 
at this report. He made up his mind to get a 
little first-hand information, and he took the most 
direct means of getting it. 

"Who are you?" he asked, walking over to me. 
"The people on board don't give you a very good 
recommendation. ' ' 

"Kindly remember," I replied, "that we have 
had a little war for the past five years on the 
border. These people were on one side and I 
on the other, and it is natural that they shouldn't 
think very highly of me." 

My argument was not convincing. "I am go- 
ing to take my daughter home again," said my 
father-in-law, and started toward the stateroom. 

I besought him to leave the decision to her, 
and for the next ten minutes I pleaded my case 
with all the eloquence I could command. I was 
talking against odds, for my wife, as well as her 
parents' friends, were all ardent Southerners, and 
I am proud to say that after fifty years of mar- 
ried life, she is still as strongly "Secesh" as ever. 
But Avhen I put the case to her she said gamely 
that she had taken me for better or for worse 
and intended to stick to me. 

She was in tears when she said good-by to her 
parents and friends, and still in tears after they 
had left. I tried to comfort her with assurances 
that when we came among Northern people I 
would not be regarded as such a desperate char- 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 93 

acter, but my consolation was of little avail. At 
dinner the hostile stares that were bent on me 
from our neighbors at table did not serve to re- 
assure her. It was some comfort to me afterward 
when the captain sent for me and told me that he 
knew me, that my Uncle Elijah was his old4ime 
friend, and one of the most extensive shippers 
on the steamboat line. ''It is shameful the way 
these people are treating you," he said, ''but let 
it pass, and when we get to Independence every- 
thing will be all right." 

But everything was not all right. In the eve- 
ning, when I led my wife out on the floor of the 
cabin, where the passengers were dancing, every 
dancer immediately walked off the floor, the men 
scowling and the women with their noses in the 
air. All that night my wife wept while I walked 
the floor. 

At daybreak, when we stopped for wood, I heard 
shots and shouting. Walking out on deck, I saw 
the freed negroes who composed the crew scram- 
bling back on board. The steamboat was backing 
out in the stream. Later I learned that my fellow 
passengers had wired up the river that I was 
on board, and an armed party had ridden down 
to "get" me. 

I quickly returned to the stateroom, and, diving 
into my trunk, took out and buckled on a brace 
of revolvers which had done excellent service in 
times past. This action promptly confirmed my 
wife's suspicions. She was now certain that I 
was the bandit I had been accused of being. I 



94 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORYi 

had no time to reason with her now. Throwing 
my coat back, so that I rested my hands on the 
butts of my revolvers, I strolled out through the 
crowd. 

One or two men who had been doing a great 
deal of loud talking a few minutes past backed 
away, as I walked past and looked them squarely 
in the eyes. Nothing more was said, and soon I 
reached the steward's office, unmolested. Here 
I found a number of men dressed in blue uniforms. 
They told me they were discharged members of 
the Eighth Indiana Volunteers. They were trav- 
eling to Kansas, steerage, saving their money so 
they might have it to invest in homes when they 
reached their destination. They had all heard 
of me, and now proposed to arm and defend me 
should there be any further hostile demonstra- 
tions. I gladly welcomed their support, more 
for my wife's sake than for my o^ti. 

"My wife," I said, "firmly believes that I am 
an outlaw." 

"You can't blame her," said the spokesman 
of the party, "after what has happened. But 
wait till she gets among Union people and she 
will learn her mistake. We know your history, 
and of your recent services to General Sherman. 
We know that old 'Pap' Sherman wouldn't have 
an outlaw in his service. If you had seen some 
of the interviews he has given out about your 
wife's father and his friends there would have 
been trouble at the start." 

My new-found friends did not do things by 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 95 

halves. Jn order to be able to give a ball in the 
cabin they exchanged their steerage tickets for 
first-class passage. That night the ball was given, 
with my wife and myself as the guests of honor. 

The Independence crowd, observing the prepa- 
rations for the ball, demanded that the captain 
stop at the first town and let them off. They saw 
that the tide had turned, and were apprehensive 
of reprisals. The captain told them that if they 
should behave like ladies and gentlemen all would 
be well. 

That night they stood outside looking in while 
my wife, now quite reassured, was introduced to 
the ladies and gentlemen from Indiana, and danced 
till she was weary. 

"We looked for trouble when we reached Inde- 
pendence the next day. There was a bigger crowd 
than usual on the levee, but when it was seen 
that my Yankee friends had their Spencer car- 
bines with them all was quiet. As we pulled 
out the old captain called me outside. 

* ' Cody, it is all over now, ' ' he said. * ' But don 't 
you think you were the only restless man on 
board. When I backed out into the river the 
other night I had to leave four of my best deck- 
hands either dead or wounded on the bank. I 
will never forget the way you walked out through 
the crowd with that pair of guns in your hand. 
I have heard of the execution these weapons can 
do when they get in action." 

When we stopped at Kansas City I telegraphed 
to Leavenworth that we were coming. As the 



96 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

boat approaclied the Leavenworth levee my sol- 
dier friends were out on deck in their dress uni- 
forms, and I stood on the deck, my bride on my 
arm. Soon we heard the music of the Fort Leav- 
enworth band and the town band, and crowds of 
citizens were on the wharf as the boat tied up. 

The commandant of the fort, D. E. Anthony, 
the Mayor of Leavenworth, my sisters, and hun- 
dreds of my friends came rushing aboard the boat 
to greet us. That night we were given a big 
banquet to which my soldier chums and their wives 
were invited. My wife had a glorious time. After 
it was all over, she put her arms about my neck 
and cried: 

''Willy, I don't believe you are an outlaw at 
all!" 

I had reluctantly promised my wife that I 
would abandon the Plains. It was necessary to 
make a living, so I rented a hotel in Salt Creek 
YaUey, the same hotel my mother had formerly 
conducted, and set up as a landlord. 

It was a typical frontier hotel, patronized by 
people going to and from the Plains, and it took 
considerable tact and diplomacy to conduct it 
successfully. I called the place **The Golden- 
Eule House," and tried to conduct it on that 
principle. I seemed to have the qualifications 
necessary, but for a man who had lived my kind 
of life it proved a tame employment. I found 
myself sighing once more for the freedom of the 
Plains. Incidentally I felt sure I could make 
money as a plainsman, and, now that I had a wife 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 97 

to support, money had become a very important 
consideration. 

I sold out the Golden-Eule House and set out 
alone for Saline, Kansas, which was then at the 
end of construction of the Kansas Pacific Rail- 
way. On my way I stopped at Junction City, 
were I again met my old friend, Wild Bill, who 
was scouting for the Government, with headquar- 
ters at Fort Ellsworth, afterward called Fort 
Harker. He told me more scouts were needed 
at the Post, and I accompanied him to the fort, 
where I had no difficulty in securing employment. 

During the winter of 1866-67 I scouted between 
Fort Ellsworth and Fort Fletcher. I was at Fort 
Fletcher in the spring of 1867 when General Cus- 
ter came out to accompany General Hancock on 
an Indian expedition. I remained here till the 
post was flooded by a great rise of Big Creek, 
on which it was located. The water overflowed 
the fortifications, rendering the place unfit for 
further occupancy, and it was abandoned by the 
Government. The troops were removed to Fort 
Hays, a new post, located farther west, on the 
south fork of Big Creek. It was while I was at 
Fort Hays that I had my first ride with the dash- 
ing Custer. He had come up from Ellsworth with 
an escort of only ten men, and wanted a guide 
to pilot him to Fort Larned, sixty-five miles dis- 
tant. 

When Custer learned that I was at the Post 
he asked that I be assigned to duty with him. 1 
reported to him at daylight the next day— none 



98 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

too early, as Custer, with his staff and orderlies, 
was already in the saddle. When I was intro- 
duced to Custer he glanced disapprovingly at the 
mule I was riding. 

* ' I am glad to meet you, Cody, ' ' he said. * ' Gen- 
eral Sherman has told me about you. But I am 
in a hurry, and I am sorry to see you riding that 
mule. ' ' 

"General," I returned, ''that is one of the best 
horses at the fort." 

*'It isn't a horse at all," he said, "but if it's 
the best you've got we shall have to start." 

We rode side by side as we left the fort. My 
mule had a fast walk, which kept the general's 
horse most of the time in a half-trot. 

His animal was a fine Kentucky thoroughbred, 
but for the kind of work at hand I had full con- 
fidence in my mount. Whenever Custer was not 
looking I slyly spurred the mule ahead, and when 
he would start forward I would rein him in and 
pat him by way of restraint, bidding him not to 
be too fractious, as we hadn't yet reached the 
sandhills. In this way I set a good lively pace — 
something like nine miles an hour — all morning. 

At Smoky Hill River we rested our animals. 
Then the general, who was impatient to be off, 
ordered a fresh start. I told him we had still 
forty miles of sandhills to cross, and advised an 
easier gait. 

"I have no time to waste on the road," he said. 
"I want to push right ahead." 

Push right ahead we did. I continued quietly 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 99 

spurring my mule and then counseling the brute 
to take it easy. Presently I noticed that the 
escort was stringing out far behind, as their 
horses became winded with the hard pace through 
the sand. Custer, looking back, noticed the same 
thing. 

**I think we are setting too fast a pace for 
them, Cody," he said, but when I replied that 
I thought this was merely the usual pace for my 
mule and that I supposed he was in a hurry he 
made no further comment. 

Several times during the next forty miles we 
had to stop to wait for the escort to close up. 
Their horses, sweating and panting, had reached 
almost the limit of their endurance, I continued 
patting my animal and ordering him to quiet 
down, and Custer at length said: 

"You seem to be putting it over me a little 
today." 

When we reached a high ridge overlooking 
Pawnee Fork we again waited for our lagging 
escort. As we waited I said: 

"If you want to send a dispatch to the officer 
in command at Fort Larned, I will be pleased to 
take it down for you. You can follow this ridge 
till you come to the creek and then follow the 
valley right down to the fort." 

Custer swung around to the captain, who had 
just ridden up, and repeated to him my instruc- 
tions as to how to reach the fort. "I shall ride 
ahead with Cody, ' ' he added. * ' Now, Cody, I am 
ready for you and that mouse-colored mule." 



100 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

The pace I set for General Custer from tkat 
time forward was "some going." When we rode 
up to the quarters of Captain Daingerfield Parker, 
commandant of the post, General Custer dis- 
mounted, and his horse was led off to the stables 
by an orderly, while I went to the scouts' quar- 
ters. I was personally sure that my mule was 
well cared for, and he was fresh as a daisy the 
next morning. 

After an early breakfast I groomed and saddled 
my mule, and, riding down to the general's quar- 
ters, waited for him to appear. I saluted as he 
came out, and said that if he had any furthet 
orders I was ready to carry them out. 

"I am not feeling very pleasant this morning, 
Cody," he said. *'My horse died during the 
night. ' ' 

I said I was very sorry his animal got into too 
fast a class the day before. 

"Well," he replied, "hereafter I will have noth- 
ing to say against a mule. We will meet again 
on the Plains. I shall try to have you detailed 
as my guide, and then we will have time to talk 
over that race." 

A few days after my return to Fort Hays the 
Indians made a raid on the Kansas Pacific Rail- 
road, killing five or six men and running off a 
hundred or more horses and mules. The news 
was brought to the commanding officer, who im- 
mediately ordered Major Arms, of the Tenth Cav- 
alry, to go in pursuit of the raiders. The Tenth 
Cavalry was a negro regiment. Arms took a com- 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 101 

pany, with one mountain howitzer, and I was sent 
along as scout. 

On the second day out we discovered a large 
party of Indians on the opposite side of the Saline 
Eiver, and about a mile distant. The party was 
charging down on us and there was no time to 
lose. Arms placed his howitzer on a little knoll, 
limbered it up, and left twenty men to guard it. 
Then, with the rest of the command, he crossed 
the river to meet the redskins. 

Just as he had got his men across the stream 
we heard a terrific shouting. Looking back toward 
the knoll where the gun had been left, we saw 
our negro gun-guard flying toward us, pursued 
by more than a hundred Indians. More 
Indians were dancing about the gun, although 
they had not the slightest notion what to do 
with it. 

Arms turned back with his command and drove 
the redskins from their useless prize. The men 
dismounted and took up a position there. 

A very lively fight followed. Five or six men, 
including Major Arms, were wounded, and a num- 
ber of the horses were shot. As the fight pro- 
ceeded, the enemy seemed to become steadily more 
numerous. It was apparent that reenforcements 
were arriving from some large party in the rear. 

The negro troops, who had been boasting of 
what they would do to the Indians, were now 
singing a different tune. 

* 'We'll jes' blow 'em off 'm de fahm," they had 
said, before there was an enemy in sight. Now, 



102 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

every time the foe would charge us, some of the 
darkies would cry: 

'^Heah dey come! De whole country is alive 
wif 'em. Dere must be ten thousand ob dem. 
Massa Bill, does you-all reckon we is ebber gwine 
to get out o' heahl" 

The major, who had been lying under the can- 
non since receiving his wound, asked me if I 
thought there was a chance to get back to the 
fort. I replied that there was, and orders were 
given for a retreat, the cannon being left behind. 

During the movement a number of our men 
were killed by the deadly fire of the Indians. But 
night fell, and in the darkness we made fairly good 
headway, arriving at Fort Hays just at daybreak. 
During our absence cholera had broken out at 
the post. Five or six men were dying daily. For 
the men there was a choice of dangers — going out 
to fight the Indians on the prairie, or remaining 
in camp to be stricken with cholera. To most 
of us the former was decidedly the more inviting. 

''The Rise and Fall of Modern Rome" — was 
the chapter of frontier history in which I next 
figured. For a time I was part owner of a town, 
and on my way to fortune. And then one of those 
quick changes that mark Western history in the 
making occurred and I was left — ^but I will tell 
you the story. 

At the town of Ellsworth, which I \dsited one 
day while carrying dispatches to Fort Harker, 
I met William Rose, who had a contract for trad- 
ing on the right-of-way of the Kansas Pacific near 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 103 

Fort Hays. His stock had been stolen by the 
Indians, and lie had come to Ellsworth to buy 
more. 

Eose was enthusiastic about a project for laying 
out a town site on the west side of Big Creek, 
a mile from the fort, where the railroad was to 
cross. When, in response to a request for my 
opinion, I told him I thought the scheme a big 
one, h6 invited me to come in as a partner. He 
suggested that after the town was laid out and 
opened to the public we establish a store and 
saloon. 

I thought it would be a grand thing to become 
half owner of a town, and at once accepted the 
proposition. We hired a railroad engineer to 
survey the town site and stake it into lots. Also 
we ordered a big stock of the goods usually kept 
in a general merchandise store on the frontier. 
This done, Ave gave the town the ancient and his- 
torical name of Rome. As a starter we donated 
lots to anyone who would build on them, reserv- 
ing for ourselves the corner lots and others which 
were best located. These reserved lots we valued 
at two hundred and fifty dollars each. 

When the town was laid out I wrote my wife 
that I was worth $250,000, and told her I wanted 
her to get ready to come to Ellsworth by rail. 
She was then visiting her parents at St. Louis, 
with our baby daughter whom we had named Arta. 

I was at Ellsworth to meet her when she ar- 
rived, iDringing the baby. Besides three or four 
wagons, in which the supplies for the new general 



104 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

store and furniture for the little house I had built 
were loaded, I had a carriage for her and the 
baby. The new town of Eome was a hundred 
miles west. I knew that it would be a dangerous 
trip, as the Indians had long been troublesome 
along the railroad, and I realized the danger more 
fully because of the presence of my wife and 
little daughter. 

A number of immigrants bound for the new 
town accompanied us. 

The first night out I formed the men into a 
company, one squad to stand watch while the 
others slept. All the early part of the evening 
I went the rounds of the camp, much to my wife 's 
annoyance. 

''Why are you away so much?" she kept asking. 
''It is lonesome here, and I need you." 

Eather than let her know of my uneasiness 
about the Indians, I told her I was trying to sell 
lots to the men while they were en route. As 
the night wore on and everything seemed quiet I 
prepared to get a little rest. I did not take my 
clothes off, and, much to my wife's surprise, 
slept with my rifle and revolvers close by me. I 
had just dropped off to sleep when I heard 
shots, and knew they could mean nothing but 
Indians. 

The attacking party was small and we were 
fully prepared. When they discovered this they 
fired a few shots and galloped away. 

The second night was almost a repetition of 
the first. After another party had been repulsed, 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 105 

Mrs. Cody asked me if I had brought her and the 
baby out on the Plains to be killed. 

"This is the kind of a life I lead every day 
and get fat on it," I said. But she did not seem 
to think it especially congenial. 

Everybody turned out to greet us when we 
arrived in Rome. Even the gambling-hall houses 
and the dance-halls closed in our honor. The next 
day we moved into our little house. That night 
there was a veritable fusillade of revolver shots 
outside the window. 

''What is that?" asked Mrs. Cody. 

''Just a serenade," I said. 
"Are you firing blank cartridges?" 

"No. If it became known that revolvers were 
loaded with blank cartridges around here we would 
soon lose some of our most valued citizens. 
Everybody in town, from the police judge to dish- 
washers, carries a pistol." 

"Whyl" 

"To keep law and order." 

That puzzled my wife. She said that in St. 
Louis policemen kept law and order, and wanted 
to know why we didn't have them to do it out 
here. I informed her that a policeman would not 
last very long in a town like this, which was per- 
fectly true. 

On my return from a hunting trip a few days 
later I met a man who had come into town on 
the stage-coach, and whom Mrs. Cody had seen 
looking over the town site from every possible 
angle. He told me he thought I had selected a 



106 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

good town site — and I agreed with him. He asked 
me to go for a ride around the surrounding coun- 
try with him the next day. I told him I was 
going on a buffalo hunt. He had never killed a 
buffalo, he said. He wanted to get a fine head 
to take back with him, and would be grateful 
if I would take him with me. I promised to see 
that he got a nice head if he came along, and 
early the next morning rode down to his hotel. 
He was dressed in a smart hunting costume and 
had his rifle. We started for the plains, my 
wagons following to gather up the meat we should 
kill. 

As we rode out I explained to him how I hunted. 
* * I kill as many buffalo as I want, ' ' I said. * ' This 
I call a * run. ' The wagons come along afterward 
and the butchers cut the meat and load it. ' ' When 
I went out on my **run" I told him where to 
shoot to kill. But when my work was done' 
I met him coming back crestfallen. He had failed 
to get his butfalo down, although he had shot him 
three times. 

''Come along with me," I said. ''I see another 
herd over there. I am going to change saddles 
with you and let you ride the best buffalo horse 
on the Plains." 

He was astonished and delighted to think I 
would let him ride Brigham, the most famous buf- 
falo horse in the West. When we drew near 
the herd I pointed out a fine four-year-old buU 
with a splendid head. I galloped alongside. 
Brigham spotted the buffalo I wanted, and after 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 107 

my companion's third shot the brute fell. My 
pupil was overjoyed with his success, and ap- 
peared to be so grateful to me that I felt sure 
I should be able to sell him three or four blocks 
of Eome real estate at least. I invited him to 
take dinner, and served as part of the repast the 
meat of the buffalo he had shot. The next morn- 
ing he looked me up and told me he wanted to 
make a proposition to me. 

"What is it?" I asked. I had thought I was 
the one who was going to make a proposition. 

''I will give you one-eighth of this town site," 
he said. 

The nerve of this proposal took me off my feet. 
Here was a total stranger offering me one-eighth 
of my own town site as a reward for what I had 
done for him. 

I told him that if he killed another buffalo I 
would have to hog-hobble him and send him out 
of town; then rode off and left him. 

This magnanimous offer occurred right in front 
of my own house. My wife overheard it, and also 
my reply. 

As I rode away, he called out that he wanted 
to explain, but I was thoroughly disgusted. 

* 'I have no time to listen to you," I shouted over 
my shoulder. 

I was bound out on a buffalo hunt to get meat 
for the graders twenty miles away on the railroad, 
and I kept right on going. Three days afterward 
I rode back over the ridge above the town of 
Eome and looked down on it. 



108 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

I took several more looks. The town was be- 
ing torn down and carted away. The balloon- 
frame buildings were coming apart section by sec- 
tion. I could see at least a hundred teams and 
wagons carting lumber, furniture, and everything 
that made up the town over the prairies to the 
eastward. 

My pupil at buffalo hunting was Dr. Webb, 
president of the town-site company of the Kansas 
Pacific. After I had ridden away without listen- 
ing to his explanations he had invited the citizens 
of Rome to come over and see where the new 
railroad division town of Hays City was to be 
built. He supplied them with wagons for the 
journey from a number of rock wagons that had 
been lent him by the Government to assist him 
in the location of a new town. The distance was 
only a mile, and he got a crowd. At the town 
site of Hays City he made a speech, telling the 
people who he was and what he proposed to do. 
He said the railroad would build its repair-shops 
at the new town, and there would be employment 
for many men, and that Hays City was destined 
soon to be the most important place on the Plains. 
He had already put surveyors to work on the site. 
Lots, he said, were then on the market, and could 
be had far more reasonably than the lots in Rome. 

My fellow-citizens straightway began to pick 
out their lots in the new town. Webb loaned them 
the six-mule Government wagons to bring over 
their goods and chattels, together with the tim- 
bers of their houses. When I galloped into Rome 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 109 

that day there was hardly a house left standing 
save my little home, our general store, and a few 
sod-houses and dugouts. 

Mrs. Cody and the baby were sitting on a dry- 
goods box when I rode up to the store. My part- 
ner, Rose, stood near by, whistling and whittling. 

**My word, Rose! What has become of our 
town?" I cried. Rose could make no answer. 
Mrs. Cody said: 

''You wrote me you were worth $250,000." 

''We've got no time to talk about that now," 
I said. "What made this town move away!" 

"You ought to have taken Mr. Webb's offer," 
was her answer. 

"Who the dickens is Webb?" I stormed. Rose 
looked up from his whittling. "Bill," he said, 
"that little flapper-jack was the president of the 
town-site company for the K. P. Railroad, and 
he's run such a bluff on our citizens about a new 
town site that is going to be a division-point that 
they've all moved over there." 

"Yes," commented Mrs. Cody, "and where is 
your $250,000?" 

"Well, I've got to make it yet," I said, and 
then to Rose: "How did the fall hit you?" 

"What fall?" 

"From millionaire to pauper." 

"It hasn't got through hitting me yet," he said 
solemnly. 

Rose went back to his grading contract, and 
I resumed my work as a buffalo hunter. When 
the Perry House, the Rome hotel, was moved to 



110 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

Hays City and rebuilt there, I took my wife and 
daughter and installed them there. 

It was hard to descend from the rank of mil- 
lionaires to that of graders and buffalo hunters, 
but we had to do it. The rise and fall of modern 
Eome had made us, and it broke us I 



CHAPTER IV 

I SOON became better acquainted with Dr. Webb, 
through whose agency our town of Eome had 
-fallen almost overnight. We visited him often 
in Hays, and eventually he presented my partner 
Eose and myself each with two lots in the new 
town. 

Webb frequently accompanied me on buffalo- 
hunting excursions; and before he had been on 
the prairie a year there were few men who could 
kill more buffalo than he. 

Once, when I was riding Brigham, and Webb 
was mounted on a splendid thoroughbred bay, we 
• discovered a band of Indians about two miles dis- 
tant, maneuvering so as to get between us and 
the town. A gallop of three miles brought us 
between them and home; but by that time they 
had come within three-quarters of a mile of us. 
We stopped to wave our hands at them, and fired 
a few shots at long range. But as there were 
thirteen in the party, and they were getting a 
little too close, we turned and struck out for Hays. 
They sent some scattering shots in pursuit, then 
wheeled and rode off toward the Saline Eiver. 

When there were no buffalo to hunt I tried the 
experiment of hitching Brigham to one of our rail- 
road scrapers, but he was not gaited for that sort 
of work. I had about given up the idea of ex- 

111 



112 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

tending his usefulness to railroading when news 
came that buffaloes were coming over the hill. 
There had been none in the vicinity for some time. 
As a consequence, meat was scarce. 

I took the harness from Brigham, mounted him 
bareback and started after the game, being armed 
with my new buffalo killer which I had named 
''Lucretia Borgia," an improved breech-loading 
needle-gun which I had obtained from the Gov- 
ernment. 

As I was riding toward the buffaloes I observed 
five men coming from the fort. They, too, had 
seen the herd and had come to join the chase. As 
I neared them I saw that they were officers, newly 
arrived at the fort, a captain and four lieuten- 
ants. 

''Hello, my friend!" sang out the captain as 
they came up. "I see you are after the same 
game we are." 

"Yes, sir," I returned. "I saw those buffaloes 
coming. We are out of fresh meat, so I thought 
I would get some." 

The captain eyed my cheap-looking outfit 
closely. Brigham, though the best buffalo horse 
in the West, was decidedly unprepossessing in 
appearance. * 

"Do you expect to catch any buffaloes on that 
Gothic steed?" asked the captain, with a laugh. 

"I hope so." 

"You'll never catch them in the world, my fine 
fellow. It requires a fast horse to overtake those 
animals." 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 113 

**Does it?" I asked innocently. 

**Yes. But come along with us. We're going 
to kill them more for the sport than anything 
else. After we take the tongues and a piece 
of the tenderloin, you may have what is 
left." 

Eleven animals were in the herd, which was 
about a mile distant. I noticed they were making 
toward the creek for water. I knew buffalo na- 
ture, and was aware that it would be dilSicult to 
turn them from their course. I therefore started 
toward the creek to head them off, while the offi- 
cers dashed madly up behind them. 

The herd came rushing up past me, not a hun- 
dred yards distant, while their pursuers followed, 
three hundred yards in the rear. 

"Now," thought I, "is the time to get in my 
work." I pulled the blind bridle from Brigham, 
who knew as well as I did what was expected of 
him. The moment he was free of the bridle he 
set out at top speed, running in ahead of the offi- 
cers. In a few jumps he brought me alongside 
the rear buffalo. Raising old "Lucretia Borgia," 
I killed the animal with one shot. On went Brig- 
ham to the next buffalo, ten feet farther along, 
and another was disposed of. As fast as one ani- 
mal would fall, Brigham would pass to the next, 
getting so close that I could almost touch it with 
my gun. In this fashion I killed eleven buffaloes 
with twelve shots. 

As the last one dropped my horse stopped. I 
jumped to the ground. Turning round to the as- 



114 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

tonished officers, who had by this time caught up, 
I said: 

**Now, gentlemen, allow me to present you with 
all the tongues and tenderloins from these animals 
that you want." 

Captain Graham, who, I soon learned, was the 
senior officer, gasped. "Well, I never saw the 
like before! Who are you, anyway?" 

"My name is Cody," I said. 

Lieutenant Thompson, one of the party, who 
had met me at Fort Harker, cried out: "Why, 
that is Bill Cody, our old scout." He introduced 
me to his comrades, Captain Graham and Lieu- 
tenants Reed, Emmick, and Ezekial. 

Graham, something of a horseman himself, 
greatly admired Brigham. ' ' That horse of yours 
has running points," he admitted. 

The officers were a little sore at not getting 
a single shot ; but the way I had killed the buffa- 
loes, they said, amply repaid them for their dis- 
appointment. It was the first time they had ever 
seen or heard of a white man running buffaloes 
without either saddle or bridle. 

I told them Brigham knew nearly as much about 
the business as I did. He was a wonderful horse. 
If the buffalo did not fall at the first shot he 
would stop to give me a second chance; but if, 
on the second shot, I did not kill the game, he 
would go on impatiently as if to say: "I can't fool 
away my time by giving you more than two 
shots!" 

Captain Graham told me that he would be sta- 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY ll5 

tioned at Fort Hays during the summer. In the 
event of his being sent out on a scouting expedi- 
tion he wanted me as scout and guide. I said 
that although I was very busy with my railroad 
contract I would be glad to go with him. 

That night the Indians unexpectedly raided our 
horses, and ran off five or six of the best work- 
teams. At daylight I jumped on Brigham, rode 
to Fort Hays, and reported the raid to the com- 
manding officer. Captain Graham and Lieutenant 
Enomick were ordered out with their company of 
one hundred colored troops. In an hour we were 
under way. The darkies had never been in an 
Indian fight and were anxious to ''sweep de red 
debbils off de face ob de earth." Graham was 
a dashing officer, eager to make a record, and 
it was with difficulty that I could trail fast enough 
to keep out of the way of the impatient soldiers. 
Every few moments the captain would ride up 
to see if the trail was freshening, and to ask how 
soon we would overtake the marauders. 

At the Saline Eiver we found the Indians had 
stopped only to graze and water the animals and 
had pushed on toward Solomon. After crossing 
the river they made no effort to conceal their trail, 
thinking they were safe from pursuit. We 
reached Solomon at sunset. Requesting Captain 
Graham to keep his command where it was, I 
went ahead to try to locate the redmen. 

Riding down a ravine that led to the river, I 
left my horse, and, creeping uphill, looked cau- 
tiously over the summit upon Solomon. In plain 



116 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

sight, not a mile away, was a herd of horses graz- 
ing, among them the animals which had been 
stolen from us. Presently I made out the Indian 
camp, noted its ''lay," and calculated how best 
we could approach it. 

Graham's eyes danced with excitement when I 
reported the prospect of an immediate encounter. 
We decided to wait until the moon rose, and then 
make a sudden dash, taking the redskins by sur- 
prise. 

We thought we had everything cut and dried, 
but alas ! just as we were nearing the point where 
we were to take the open ground and make our 
charge, one of the colored gentlemen became so 
excited that he fired his gun. 

We began the charge immediately, but the warn- 
ing had been sounded. The Indians at once sprang 
to their horses, and were away before we reached 
their camp. Captain Graham shouted, "Follow 
me, boys!" and follow him w^e did, but in the 
darkness the Indians made good their escape. 
The bugle sounded the recall, but some of the 
darkies did not get back to camp until the next 
morning, having, in their fright, allowed the 
horses to run wherever it suited them to go. 

We followed the trail awhile the next day, but 
it became evident that it would be a long chase, 
and as we were short of rations we started back 
to camp. Captain Graham was bitterly disap- 
pointed at being cheated out of a fight that seemed 
at hand. He roundly cursed the darky who had 
given the warning with his gun. That gentleman, 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 117 

as a punishment, was compelled to walk all the 
way back to Fort Hays. 

The western end of the Kansas Pacific was at 
this time in the heart of the buffalo country. 
Twelve hundred men were employed in the con- 
struction of the road. The Indians were very 
troublesome, and it was difficult to obtain fresh 
meat for the hands. The company therefore con- 
cluded to engage expert hunters to kill buffaloes. 

Having heard of my experience and success as 
a buffalo hunter, Goddard Brothers, who had the 
contract for feeding the men, made me a good 
offer to become their hunter. They said they 
would require about twelve buffaloes a day — 
twenty-four hams and twelve humps, as only the 
hump and hindquarters of each animal were util- 
ized. The work was dangerous. Indians were 
riding all over that section of the country, and 
my duties would require me to journey from five 
to ten miles from the railroad every day in order 
to secure the game, accompanied by only one man 
with a light wagon to haul the meat back to camp. 
I demanded a large salary, which they could well 
afiFord to pay, as the meat itself would cost them 
nothing. Under the terms of the contract which 
I signed with them, I was to receive five hundred 
doUars a month, agreeing on my part to supply 
them with all the meat they wanted. 

Leaving Rose to complete our grading contract, 
I at once began my career as a buffalo hunter for 
the Kansas Pacific. It was not long before I ac- 
quired a considerable reputation, and it was at 



118 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

this time that the title '^ Buffalo Bill" was con- 
ferred upon me by the railroad hands. Of this 
title, which has stuck to me through life, I have 
never been ashamed. 

During my engagement as hunter for the com- 
pany, which covered a period of eighteen months, 
I killed 4,280 buffaloes and had many exciting ad- 
ventures with the Indians, including a number of 
hairbreadth escapes, some of which are well worth 
relating. 

One day, in the spring of 1868, 1 mounted Brig- 
ham and started for Smoky Hill River. After a 
gallop of twenty miles I reached the top of a small 
hill overlooking that beautiful stream. Gazing out 
over the landscape, I saw a band of about thirty 
Indians some half-mile distant. I knew by the 
way they jumped on their horses they had seen 
me as soon as I saw them. 

My one chance for my life was to run. I wheeled 
my horse and started for the railroad, Brigham 
struck out as if he comprehended that this was a 
life-or-death matter. On reaching the next ridge 
I looked around and saw the Indians, evidently 
well mounted, and coming for me full speed. Brig- 
ham put his whole strength into the flight, and 
for a few minutes did some of the prettiest run- 
ning I ever saw. But the Indians had nearly as 
good mounts as he, and one of their horses in par- 
ticular, a spotted animal, gained on me steadily. 

Occasionally the brave who was riding this fleet 
horse would send a bullet whistling after me. 
Soon they began to strike too near for comfort. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 119 

The other Indians were strung out along behind, 
and could do no immediate damage. But I saw 
that the fellow in the lead must be checked, or a 
stray bullet might hit me or the horse. Suddenly- 
stopping Brigham, therefore, I raised old "Lu- 
cretia" to my shoulder and took deliberate aim, 
hoping to hit either the horse or the rider. He 
was not eighty yards behind me. At the crack 
of the rifle down went the horse. Not waiting 
to see if he regained his feet, Brigham and I went 
fairly flying toward our destination. We had 
urgent business just then and were in a hurry 
to attend to it. 

The other Indians had gained while I stopped 
to drop the leader. A volley of shots whizzed 
past me. Fortunately none of them hit. Now 
and then, to return the compliment, I wheeled and 
fired. One of my shots broke the leg of one of 
my pursuers' mounts. 

But seven or eight Indians now remained in 
dangerous proximity to me. As their horses were 
beginning to lag, I checked Brigham to give him 
an opportunity to get a few extra breaths. I 
had determined that if the worst came to the worst 
I would drop into a buffalo wallow, where I might 
possibly stand off my pursuers. I was not com- 
pelled to do this, for Brigham carried me through 
nobly. 

When we came within three miles of the rail- 
road track, where two companies of soldiers were 
stationed, one of the outposts gave the alarm. 
In a few minutes, to my great delight, I saw men 



120 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

on foot and oh horseback hurrying to the rescue. 
The Indians quickly turned and galloped away 
as fast as they had come. When I reached my 
friends, I turned Brigham over to them. He was 
led away and given the care and rub-down that 
he richly deserved. 

Captain Nolan of the Tenth Cavalry now came 
up with forty men, and on hearing my account 
of what had happened determined to pursue the 
Indians. I was given a cavalry horse for a re- 
mount and we were off. 

Our horses were all fresh and excellent stock. 
We soon began shortening the distance between 
ourselves and the fugitives. Before they had 
fled five miles we overtook them and killed eight 
of their number. The others succeeded in making 
their escape. Upon coming to the place where 
I had dropped the spotted horse that carried the 
leader of my pursuers I found that my bullet had 
struck him in the forehead, killing him instantly. 
He was a fine animal, and should have been en- 
gaged in better business. 

On our return we found old Brigham grazing 
contentedly. He looked up inquiring, as if to ask 
if we had punished the redskins who pursued us. 
I think he read the answer in my eyes. 

Another adventure which deserves a place in 
these reminiscences occurred near the Saline 
Eiver. My companion at the time was Scotty, 
the butcher who accompanied me on my hunts, 
to cut up the meat and load it on the wagon for 
hauling to the railroad camp. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 121 

I had killed fifteen buffaloes, and we were on 
our way home with a wagonload of meat when 
we were jumped by a big band of Indians. 

I was mounted on a splendid horse belonging 
to the company, and could easily have made my 
escape, but Scotty had only the mule team, which 
drew the wagon as a means of flight, and of course 
I could not leave him. 

To think was to act in those days. Scotty and 
I had often talked of what we would do in case 
of a sudden attack, and we forthwith proceeded 
to carry out the plan we had made. 

Jumping to the ground, we unhitched the mules 
more quickly than that operation had ever been 
performed before. The mules and my horse we 
tied to the wagon. We threw the buffalo hams 
on the ground and piled them about the wheels 
so as to form a breastwork. Then, with an extra 
box of ammunition and three or four extra re- 
volvers which we always carried with us, we crept 
under the wagon, prepared to give our visitors a 
reception they would remember. 

On came the Indians, pell-mell, but when they 
got within a hundred yards of us we opened such 
a sudden and galling fire that they held up and 
began circling about us. 

Several times they charged. Their shots killed 
the two mules and my horse. But we gave it to 
them right and left, and had the satisfaction of 
seeing three of them fall to the ground not more 
than fifty feet away. 

When we had been cooped up in our little fort 



122 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY^ 

for about an hour we saw the cavalry coming to- 
ward us, full gallop, over the prairie. The In- 
dians saw the soldiers almost as soon as we did. 
Mounting their horses, they disappeared down 
the canon of the creek. When the cavalry arrived 
we had the satisfaction of showing them five In- 
dians who would be ''good" for all time. Two 
hours later we reached the camp with our meat, 
which we found to be all right, although it had 
a few bullets and arrows imbedded in it. 

It was while I was hunting for the railroad 
that I became acquainted with Kit Carson, one 
of the most noted of the guides, scouts, and 
hunters that the West ever produced. He was 
going through our country on his way to Wash- 
ington. I met him again on his return, and he 
was my guest for a few days in Hays City. He 
then proceeded to Fort Lyon, Colorado, near 
which his son-in-law, Mr. Boggs, resided. His 
health had been failing for some time, and shortly 
afterward he died at Mr. Boggs 's residence on 
Picket Wire Creek. 

Soon after the adventure with Scotty I had 
my celebrated buffalo shooting contest with Billy 
Comstock, a well-known guide, scout, and inter- 
preter. Comstock, who was chief of scouts at 
Fort Wallace, had a reputation of being a suc- 
cessful buffalo hunter, and his friends at the fort 
— the officers in particular — were anxious to back 
him against me. 

It was arranged that I should shoot a match 
with him, and the preliminaries were easily and 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 123 

satisfactorily arranged. We were to hunt one 
day of eight hours, beginning at eight o'clock in 
the morning. The wager was five hundred dol- 
lars a side, and the man who should kill the greater 
number of buffaloes from horseback was to be 
declared the winner. Incidentally my title of 
'^Buffalo Bill" was at stake. 

The hunt took place twenty miles east of Sheri- 
dan. It had been well advertised, and there was 
a big ''gallery." An excursion party, whose 
members came chiefly from St. Louis and num- 
bered nearly a hundred ladies and gentlemen, 
came on a special train to view the sport. Among 
them was my wife and my little daughter Arta, 
who had come to visit me for a time. 

Buffaloes were plentiful. It had been agreed 
that we should go into the herd at the same time 
and make our ''runs," each man killing as many 
animals as possible. A referee followed each 
of us, horseback, and counted the buffaloes killed 
by each man. The excursionists and other spec- 
tators rode out to the hunting-grounds in wagons 
and on horseback, keeping well out of sight of 
the buffaloes, so as not to frighten them until the 
time came for us to dash into the herd. They 
were permitted to approach closely enough to see 
what was going on. 

For the first "run" we were fortunate in get- 
ting good ground. Comstock was mounted on 
his favorite horse. I rode old Brigham. I felt 
confident that I had the advantage in two things : 
first, I had the best buffalo horse in the country; 



124 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

second, I was using what was kno^vn at the time 
as a needle-gun, a breech-loading Springfield rifle, 
caliber .50. This was ''Lucretia," the weapon 
of which I have already told you. Comstock's 
Henry rifle, though it could fire more rapidly than 
mine, did not, I felt certain, carry powder and 
lead enough to equal my weapon in execution. 

When the time came to go into the herd, Corn- 
stock and I dashed forward, followed by the ref- 
erees. The animals separated. Comstock took 
the left bunch, I the right. My great forte in 
killing buffaloes was to get them circling by rid- 
ing my horse at the head of the herd and shoot- 
ing their leaders. Thus the brutes behind were 
crowded to the left, so that they were soon going 
round and round. 

This particular morning the animals were very 
accommodating. I soon had them running in a 
beautiful circle. I dropped them thick and fast 
till I had killed thirty-eight, which finished my 
*'run." 

Comstock began shooting at the rear of the 
buffaloes he was chasing, and they kept on in a 
straight line. He succeeded in killing twenty- 
three, but they were scattered over a distance 
of three miles. The animals I had shot lay close 
together. 

Our St. Louis friends set out champagne when 
the result of the first run was announced. It 
proved a good drink on a Kansas prairie, and a 
buffalo hunter proved an excellent man to dis- 
pose of it. 




WINNING My NAME— BUFFALO BILL' 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 125 

While we were resting we espied another herd 
approaching. It was a small drove, but we pre- 
pared to make it serve our purpose. The buffaloes 
were cows and calves, quicker in their movements 
than the bulls. We charged in among them, and 
I got eighteen to Comstock's fourteen. 

Again the spectators approached, and once 
more the champagne went round. After a lunch- 
eon we resumed the hunt. Three miles distant 
we saw another herd. I was so far ahead of my 
competitor now that I thought I could afford 
to give an exhibition of my skill. Leaving my 
saddle and bridle behind, I rode, with my com- 
petitor, to windward of the buffaloes. 

I soon had thirteen down, the last one of which 
I had driven close to the wagons, where the ladies 
were watching the contest. It frightened some 
of the tender creatures to see a buffalo coming 
at full speed directly toward them, but I dropped 
him in his tracks before he had got within fifty 
yards of the wagon. This finished my ' ' run ' ' with 
a score of sixty-nine buffaloes for the day. Com- 
stock had killed forty-six. 

It was now late in the afternoon. Comstock 
and his backers gave up the idea of beating me. 
The referee declared me the winner of the 
match, and the champion buffalo hunter of the 
Plains. 

On our return to camp we brought with us the 
best bits of meat, as well as the biggest and best 
buffalo heads. The heads I always turned over 
to the company, which found a very good use for 



126 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

them. They were mounted in the finest possible 
manner and sent to the principal cities along the 
road, as well as to the railroad centers of the 
country. Here they were prominently placed at 
the leading hotels and in the stations, where they 
made an excellent advertisement for the road. 
Today they attract the attention of travelers 
almost everywhere. Often, while touring the 
country, I see one of them, and feel reasonably 
certain that I brought down the animal it once 
ornamented. Many a wild and exciting hunt is 
thus called to my mind. 

In May, 1868, the Kansas Pacific track was 
pushed as far as Sheridan. Construction was 
abandoned for the time, and my services as buf- 
falo hunter were no longer required. A general 
Indian war was now raging all along the Western 
borders. General Sheridan had taken up head- 
quarters at Fort Hays, in order to be on the 
job in person. Scouts and guides were once more 
in great demand, and I decided to go back to 
my old calling. 

I did not wish to kill my faithful old Brigham 
by the rigors of a scouting campaign. I had no 
suitable place to leave him, and determined to 
dispose of him. At the suggestion of a number 
of friends, all of whom wanted him, I put him 
Tip at a raffle, selling ten chances at thirty dollars 
each, which were all quickly taken. Ike Bonham, 
who won him, took him to Wyandotte, Kansas, 
where he soon added fresh laurels to his already 
shining wreath. In the crowning event of a tour- 



1 
I 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 127 

nament he easily outdistanced all entries in a four- 
mile race to Wyandotte, winning $250 for his 
owner, who had been laughed at for entering such 
an unprepossessing animal. 

I lost track of him after that. For several 
years I did not know what had become of him. 
But many years after, while in Memphis, I met 
Mr. Wilcox, who had once been superintendent 
of construction on the Kansas Pacific. He in- 
formed me that he owned Brigham, and I rode 
out to his place to take a look at my gallant old 
friend. He seemed to remember me, as I put 
my arms about his neck and caressed him like a 
long-lost child. 

When I had received my appointment as guide 
and scout I was ordered to report to the com- 
mandant of Fort Larned, Captain Daingerfield 
Parker. I knew that it would be necessary to 
take my family, who had been with me at Sheri- 
dan, to Leavenworth and leave them there. This 
I did at once. 

When I arrived at Larned, I found the scouts 
under command of Dick Curtis, an old-time scout 
of whom I have spoken in these reminiscences. 
Three hundred lodges of Kiowa and Comanche 
Indians were encamped near the fort. These sav- 
ages had not yet gone on the warpath, but they 
were restless and discontented. Their leading 
chief and other warriors were becoming sullen 
and insolent. The Post was garrisoned by only 
two companies of infantry and one troop of cav- 
alry. General Hazen, who was at the post, was 



128 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

endeavoring to pacify the Indians; I was ap- 
pointed as his special scout. 

Early one morning in August I accompanied 
him to Fort Zarrah, from which post he pro- 
ceeded, without an escort, to Fort Harker. In- 
structions were left that the escort with me should 
return to Larned the next day. After he had 
gone I went to the sergeant in command of the 
squad and informed him I intended to return that 
afternoon. I saddled my mule and set out. All 
went well till I got about halfway between the 
two posts, when at Pawnee Eock I was suddenly 
jumped by at least forty Indians, who came rush- 
ing up, extending their hands and saying, ''HowT' 
''How?" These redskins had been hanging 
about Fort Lamed that morning. I saw that 
they had on their warpaint,, and looked for 
trouble. 

As they seemed desirous to shake hands, how- 
ever, I obeyed my first friendly impulse, and held 
out my hand. One of them seized it with a tight 
grip and jerked me violently forward. Another 
grabbed my mule by the bridle. In a few min- 
utes I was completely surrounded. 

Before I could do anything at all in my defense, 
they had taken my revolvers from the holsters 
and I received a blow on the head from a toma- 
hawk which rendered me nearly senseless. My 
gun, which was lying across the saddle, was 
snatched from its place. Finally two Indians, 
laying hold of the bridle, started off in the direc- 
tion of the Arkansas River, leading the mule, 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 129 

which was lashed by the other Indians who fol- 
lowed along after. 

The whole crowd was whooping, singing, and 
yelling as only Indians can. Looking toward the 
opposite side of the river, I saw the people of 
a big village moving along the bank, and made 
up my mind that the redmen had left the Post, 
and were on the warpath in dead earnest. 

My captors crossed the stream with me, and 
as we waded through the shallow water they 
lashed both the mule and me. Soon they brought 
me before an important-looking body of Indians, 
who proved to be the chiefs and principal war- 
riors. Among them I recognized old Satanta 
and others whom I knew. I supposed that all 
was over with me. 

All at once Satanta asked me where I had 
been, and I suddenly had an inspiration. 

I said I had been after a herd of cattle or 
**Whoa-haws" as they called them. The Indians 
had been out of meat for several weeks, and a 
large herd of cattle which had been promised 
them had not arrived. 

As soon as I said I had been after "Whoa- 
haws" old Satanta began questioning me closely. 
When he asked where the cattle were I replied 
that they were only a few miles distant and that 
I had been sent by General Hazen to inform him 
that the herd was coming, and that they were 
intended for his people. This seemed to please 
the old rascal. He asked if there were any sol- 
diers with the herd. I said there were. There- 



130 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

upon the chiefs held a consultation. Presently 
Satanta asked me if the general had really said 
they were to have the cattle. I assured him that 
he had. I followed this by a dignified inquiry 
as to why his young men had treated me so 
roughly. 

He intimated that this was only a boyish freak, 
for which he was very sorry. The young men 
had merely wanted to test my courage. The 
whole thing, he said, was a joke. The old liar 
was now beating me at the lying game, but I 
did not care, since I was getting the best of it. 

I did not let him suspect that I doubted his 
word. He ordered the young men to restore my 
arms and reprimanded them for their conduct. 
He was playing a crafty game, for he preferred 
to get the meat without fighting if possible, and 
my story that soldiers were coming had given 
him food for reflection. After another council the 
old man asked me if I would go and bring the 
cattle down. "Of course," I told him. ''Such 
are my instructions from General Hazen." 

In response to an inquiry if I wanted any of 
his young men to accompany me I said that it 
would be best to go alone. Wheeling my mule 
around, I was soon across the river, leaving the 
chief firmly believing that I was really going for 
the cattle, which existed only in my imagination. 

I knew if I could get the river between me and 
the Indians I would have a good three-quarters 
of a mile start of them and could make a run 
for Fort Larned. But as I reached the river 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 131 

bank I looked about and saw ten or fifteen Indians 
who had begun to suspect that all was not as it 
should be. 

The moment my mule secured a good foothold 
on the bank I urged him into a gentle lope toward 
the place where, according to my story, the cattle 
were to be brought. 

Upon reaching the top of the ridge and riding 
down the other side out of view, I turned my 
mount and headed westward for Fort Larned. 
I let him out for all he was worth, and when 
I reached a little rise and looked back the Indian 
village lay in plain sight. 

My pursuers were by this time on the ridge 
I had passed over, and were looking for me in 
every direction. Soon they discovered me, and 
discovered also that I was running away. They 
struck out in swift pursuit. In a few minutes it 
became painfully evident that they were gaining. 

When I crossed Pawnee Fork, two miles from 
the Post, two or three of them were but a quarter 
of a mile behind. As I gained the opposite side 
of the creek I was overjoyed to see some soldiers 
in a Government wagon a short distance away. 
I yelled at the top of my lungs that the Indians 
were after me. 

When Denver Jim, an old scout, who was with 
the party, was informed that there were ten or 
fifteen Indians in the pursuit he said: 

''Let's lay for them." 

The wagon was driven hurriedly in among the 
trees and low box-elder bushes, and secreted, 



132 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

while we waited. We did not wait long. Soon 
up came the Indians, lashing their horses, which 
were blowing and panting. We let two of them 
pass, then opened a lively fire on the next three 
or four, killing two at the first volley. The others, 
discovering that they had run into an ambush, 
whirled around and ran back in the direction 
from which they had come. The two who had 
passed heard the firing and made their escape. 

The Indians that were killed were scalped, and 
we appropriated their arms and equipment. 
Then, after catching the horses, we made our way 
into the Post. The soldiers had heard us firing, 
and as we entered the fort drums were beating 
and the buglers were sounding the call to fall 
in. The officers had thought Satanta and his 
warriors were coming in to capture the fort. 

That very morning, two hours after General 
Hazen had left, the old chief drove into the Post 
in an ambulance which he had received some 
months before from the Government. He seemed 
angry and bent on mischief. In an interview 
with Captain Parker, the ranking officer, he asked 
why General Hazen had left the fort without sup- 
plying him with beef cattle. The captain said 
the cattle were then on the road, but could not 
explain why they were delayed. 

The chief made numerous threats. He said 
that if he wanted to he could capture the whole 
Post. Captain Parker, who was a brave man, 
gave him to understand that he was reckoning 
beyond his powers. Satanta finally left in anger. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 133 

Going to the sutler's store, he sold his ambulance 
to the post-trader, and a part of the proceeds 
he secretly invested in whisky, whicii could always 
be secured by the Lidians from rascally [oien 
about a Post, notwithstanding the military and 
civil laws. 

He then mounted his horse and rode rapidly 
to his village. He returned in an hour with seven 
or eight hundred of his warriors, and it looked 
as if he intended to carry out his threat of cap- 
turing the fort. The garrison at once turned out. 
The redskins, when within a half mile, began 
circling around the fort, firing several shots into it. 

While this circling movement was taking place, 
the soldiers observed that the whole village had 
packed up and was on the move. The mounted 
warriors remained behind some little time, to 
give their families an opportunity to get away. 
At last they circled the Post several times more, 
fired a few parting shots, and then galloped over 
the prairie to overtake the fast-departing village. 
On their way they surprised and killed a party 
of woodchoppers on Pawnee Fork, as well as a 
party of herders guarding beef cattle. 

The soldiers with the wagon I had opportunely 
met at the crossing had been out looking for the 
bodies of these victims, seven or eight in all. 
Under the circumstances it was not surprising 
that the report of our guns should have persuaded 
the garrison that Satanta's men were coming 
back to make their threatened assault. 

There was much excitement at the Post. The 



134 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

guards had been doubled. Captain Parker bad 
all the scouts at bis headquarters. He was seek- 
ing to get one of tbem to take dispatches to Gen- 
eral Sheridan at Fort Hays. I reported to him 
at once, telling him of my encounter and my 
escape. 

''You were lucky to think of that cattle story, 
Cody," he said. "But for that little game your 
scalp would now be ornamenting a Kiowa lodge." 

*'Cody," put in Dick Curtis, *'the captain is 
trying to get somebody to take dispatches to Gen- 
eral Sheridan. None of the scouts here seem 
willing to undertake the trip. They say they are 
not well enough acquainted with the country to 
find the way at night." 

A storm was coming up, and it was sure to 
be a dark night. Not only did the scouts fear 
they would lose the way, but, with hostile In- 
dians all about, the undertaking was exceedingly 
dangerous. A large party of redskins was known 
to be encamped at Walnut Creek, on the direct 
road to Fort Hays. 

Observing that Curtis was obviously trying to 
induce me to volunteer, I made an evasive an- 
swer. I was wearied from my long day's ride, 
and the beating I received from the Indians had 
not rested me any. But Curtis was persistent. 
He said: 

**I wish you were not so tired, Bill. You know 
the country better than the rest of us. I 'm certain 
you could go through." 

''As far as the ride is concerned," I said, "that 



• BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 135 

would not matter. But this is risky business just 
now, with the country full of hostile Indians. 
Still, if no other man will volunteer I will chance 
it, provided I am supplied with a good horse. I 
am tired of dodging Indians on a Government 
mule. ' ' 

At this, Captain Nolan, who had been listening, 
said: 

''Bill, you can have the best horse in my com- 
pany. ' ' 

I picked the horse ridden by Captain Nolan's 
first sergeant. To the captain's inquiry as to 
whether I was sure I could find my way, I re- 
plied : 

"I have hunted on every acre of ground be- 
tween here and Fort Hays. I can almost keep 
my route by the bones of the dead buffaloes." 

''Never fear about Cody, captain," Curtis 
added; "he is as good in the dark as he is in 
the daylight." 

By ten o'clock that night I was on my way to 
Fort Hays, sixty-five miles distant across the 
country. 

It was pitch-dark, but this I liked, as it les- 
sened the probability of the Indians' seeing me 
unless I stumbled on them by accident. My great- 
est danger was that my horse might run into a 
hole and fall, and in this way get away from me. 
To avoid any such accident I tied one end of 
my rawhide lariat to my belt and the other to 
the bridle. I did not propose to be left alone, 
on foot, on that prairie. 



136 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

Before I had traveled three miles the horse, 
sure enough, stepped into a prairie dog's hole. 
Down he went, throwing me over his head. He 
sprang to his feet before I could catch the bridle, 
and galloped away into the darkness. But when 
he reached the end of his lariat he discovered 
that he was picketed to Bison William. I brought 
him up standing, recovered my gun, which had 
fallen to the ground, and was soon in the saddle 
again. 

Twenty-five miles from Fort Lamed the coun- 
try became rougher, and I had to travel more 
carefully. Also I proceeded as quietly as possi- 
ble, for I knew I was in the vicinity of the Indians 
who had been lately encamped on Walnut Creek. 
But when I came up near the creek I unexpectedly 
rode in among a herd of horses. The animals 
became frightened, and ran otf in all directions. 
Without pausing to make any apology, I backed 
out as quickly as possible. But just at that min- 
ute a dog, not fifty yards away, set up a howl. 
Soon I heard Indians talking. They had been 
guarding the horses, and had heard the hoofbeats 
of my horse. In an instant they were on their 
ponies and after me. 

I urged my mount to full speed up the creek 
bottom, taking chances of his falling into a hole. 
The Indians followed me as fast as they could, 
but I soon outdistanced them. 

I struck the old Santa Fe trail ten miles from 
Fort Hays just at daybreak. Shortly after reveille 
I rode into the post, where Colonel Moore, to 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 137 

wliom I reported, asked for the dispatches from 
Captain Parker for General Sheridan. He asked 
me to give them into his hands, but I said I pre- 
ferred to hand them to the general in person. 
Sheridan, who was sleeping in the same building,, 
heard our voices and bade me come into his room.. 

'^HeUo, Cody!" he said. "Is that you!" 

"Yes, sir," I said. "I have dispatches for 
you." 

He read them hurriedly, told me they were very 
important, and asked all about the outbreak of 
the Kiowas and Comanches. I gave him all the 
information I possessed. 

"Bill," said General Sheridan, "you've had a 
pretty lively ride. I suppose you're tired after 
your long journey." 

"Not very," I said. 

"Come in and have breakfast with me." 

"No, thank you. Hays City is only a mile from 
here. I know every one there and want to go 
over and have a time." 

"Very well, do as you please, but come back 
this afternoon, for I want to see you." 

I got little rest at Hays City, and yet I was 
soon to set out on another hard ninety-five-mile 
journey. 



CHAPTER V 

When I rode back to General Sheridan's head- 
quarters, after a visit with old friends at Hays 
City, I noticed several scouts in a little group 
engaged in conversation on some important topic. 
Upon inquiry I learned that General Sheridan 
wanted a dispatch sent to Fort Dodge, a distance 
of ninety-five miles. 

The Indians had recently killed two or three 
men engaged in carrying dispatches over this 
route. On this account none of the scouts were 
at all anxious to volunteer. A reward of several 
hundred dollars had failed to secure any takers. 

The scouts had heard of what I had done the 
day before. They asked me if I did not think 
the journey to Fort Dodge dangerous. I gave 
as my opinion that a man might possibly go 
through without seeing an Indian, but that the 
chances were ten to one that he would have an 
exceedingly lively run before he reached his des- 
tination, provided he got there at all. 

Leaving the scouts arguing as to whether any 
of them would undertake the venture, I reported 
to General Sheridan. He informed me that he 
was looking for a man to carry dispatches to 
Fort Dodge, and, while we were talking, Dick 
Parr, his chief of scouts, came in to inform him 
that none of his scouts would volunteer. 

138 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 139 

Upon hearing this, I said: 

''General, if no one is ready to volunteer, 111 
carry your dispatches myself." 

*'I had not thought of asking you to do this, 
Cody, ' ' said the general. * ' You are already pretty 
hard-worked. But it is really important that these 
dispatches should go through." 

''If you don't get a courier before four this 
afternoon, I'll be ready for business," I told him. 
"All I want is a fresh horse. Meanwhile I'll get 
a little more rest." 

It was not much of a rest, however, that I got. 
I went over to Hays City and had a ' ' time ' ' with 
the boys. Coming back to the Post at the ap- 
pointed hour, I found that no scout had volun- 
teered. I reported to the general, who had secured 
an excellent horse for me. Handing me the dis- 
patches, he said : 

"You can start as soon as you wish. The 
sooner the better. And good luck to you, my 
boy!" 

An hour later I was on my way. At dusk I 
crossed the Smoky Hill Eiver. I did not urge 
my horse much, as I was saving him for the 
latter end of the journey, or for any run I might 
have to make should the "wild boys" jump 
me. 

Though I kept a sharp watch through the night 
I saw no Indians, and had no adventures worth 
relating. Just at daylight I found myself ap- 
proaching Saw Log River, having ridden about 
seventy-five miles. 



140 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

A company of colored cavalry, under command 
of Major Cox, was stationed at this point. I 
approached the camp cautiously. The darky sol- 
diers had a habit of shooting first and crying 
''Halt!" afterward. When I got within hearing 
distance I called out, and was answered by one 
of the pickets. I shouted to him not to shoot, 
informing him that I carried dispatches from 
Fort Hays. Then, calling the sergeant of the 
guard, I went up to the vidette, who at once rec- 
ognized me, and took me to the tent of Major 
Cox. 

This officer supplied me with a fresh horse, 
as requested by General Sheridan in a letter I 
brought to him. After an hour's sleep and a 
meal, I jumped into the saddle, and before sunrise 
was on my way. I reached Fort Dodge, twenty- 
five miles further on, between nine and ten o 'clock 
without having seen a single Indian. 

When I had delivered my dispatches, Johnny 
Austin, an old friend, who was chief of scouts 
at the Post, invited me to come to his house for 
a nap. When I awoke Austin told me there had 
been Indians all around the Post. He was very 
much surprised that I had seen none of them. 
They had run oflf cattle and horses, and occa- 
sionally killed a man. Indians, he said, were also 
very thick on the Arkansas River between Fort 
Dodge and Fort Larned, and had made consider- 
able trouble. The commanding officer of Fort 
Dodge was very anxious to send dispatches to 
Fort Larned, but the scouts, like those at Fort 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 141 

Hays, were backward about volunteering. Fort 
Larned was my Post, and I wanted to go there 
anyhow. So I told Austin I would carry the dis- 
patches, and if any of the boys wanted to go 
along I would be glad of their company. This 
offer was reported to the commanding officer. 
He sent for me, and said he would be glad to have 
me take the dispatches, if I could stand the trip 
after what I had already done. 

*'A11 1 want is a fresh horse, sir," said L 

**I am sorry we haven't a decent horse," he 
replied, ''but we have a reliable and honest Gov- 
ernment mule, if that will do you." 

''Trot out the mule," I told him. "It is good 
enough for me. I am ready at any time. ' ' 

The mule was forthcoming. At dark I pulled 
out for Fort Larned, and proceeded without in- 
terruption to Coon Creek, thirty miles from Fort 
Dodge. I had left the wagon road some distance 
to the south, and traveled parallel to it. This I 
decided would be the safer course, as the Indians 
might be lying in watch for dispatch-bearers and 
scouts along the main road. 

At Coon Creek I dismounted and led the mule 
down to the river to get a drink of water. While 
I was drinking the brute jerked loose and struck 
out down the creek. I followed him, trusting that 
he would catch his foot in the bridle rein and stop, 
but he made straight for the wagon road, where I 
feared Indians would be lurking, without a pause. 
At last he struck the road, but instead of turning 
back toward Fort Dodge he headed for Fort 



142 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

Larned, keeping up a jogtrot tliat was just too 
fast to permit me to overtake him. 

I had my gun in hand, and was sorely tempted 
to shoot him more than once, and probably would 
have done so but for the fear of bringing the 
Indians down on me. But he was going my way, 
so I trudged along after him mile after mile, in- 
dulging from time to time in strong language re- 
garding the entire mule fraternity. The mule 
stuck to the road and kept on for Fort Larned, 
and I did the same thing. The distance was thirty- 
five miles. As day was beginning to break, we 
— the mule and myself — found ourselves on a hill 
looking down on the Pawnee Fork, on which Fort 
Larned was located, only four miles away. When 
the sunrise gun sounded we were within half a 
mile of the Post. 

I was thoroughly out of patience by this time. 

''Now, Mr. Mule,'' I said, '4t is my turn," and 
threw my gun to my shoulder. Like the majority 
of Government mules, he was not easy to kill. 
He died hard, but he died. 

Hearing the report of the gun, the troops came 
rushing out to see what was the matter. When 
they heard my story they agreed that the mule 
had got no more than his deserts. I took the 
saddle and bridle and proceeded to the Post, 
where I delivered my dispatches to Captain 
Parker. I then went to Dick Curtis 's house at 
the scouts ' headquarters and put in several hours 
of solid sleep. 

During the day General Hazen returned from 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 143 

Fort Harker. He had important dispatches to 
send to General Sheridan. I was feeling highly- 
elated over my ride, and as I ■was breaking the 
scont records I volunteered for this mission. 

The general accepted my offer, though he said 
there was no necessity of my killing myself. I 
said I had business which called me to Fort Hays, 
anyway, and that it would make no difference 
to the other scouts if he gave me the job, as none 
of them were particularly eager for the journey. 
Accordingly, that night, I mounted an excellent 
horse, and next morning at daylight reached Gen- 
eral Sheridan's headquarters at Fort Hays. 

The general was surprised to see me, and still 
more so when I told him of the time I had made 
on the rides I had successfully undertaken. I be- 
lieve this record of mine has never been beaten 
in a country infested with Indians and subject 
to blizzards and other violent weather condi- 
tions, 
f To sum up, I had ridden from Fort Larned 

. to Fort Zarrah, a distance of sixty-five miles and 
back in twelve hours. Ten miles must be added 
to this for the distance the Indians took me across 
the Arkansas River. In the succeeding twenty- 
four hours I had gone from Fort Larned to Fort 

' Hays, sixty-five miles, in eight hours. During 
the next twenty-four hours I rode from Fort Hays 
to Fort Dodge, ninety-five miles. The following 
night I traveled from Fort Dodge to Fort Larned, 
thirty miles on mule back and thirty-five miles 
on foot, in twelve hours, and the next night sixty- 



144 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

five miles more from Fort Larned to Fort Hays. 

Altogether I liad ridden and walked three hun- 
dred and sixty-five miles in fifty-eight hours, an 
average of over six miles an hour. 

Taking into consideration the fact that most 
of this riding was done in the night over wild 
country, with no roads to follow, and that I had 
continually to look out for Indians, it was re- 
garded at the time as a big ride as well as a 
dangerous one. 

What I have set down here concerning it can 
be verified by referring to the autobiography of 
General Sheridan. 

General Sheridan complimented me highly on 
this achievement. He told me I need not report 
back to General Hazen, as he had more important 
work for me to do. The Fifth Cavalry, one of 
the finest regiments of the army, was on its way 
to the Department of the Missouri, and he was 
going to send an expedition against the Dog Sol- 
dier Indians who were infesting the Kepublican 
Kiver region. 

''Cody," he said, ''I am going to appoint you 
guide and chief of scouts of the command. How 
does that suit you?" 

I told him it suited me first rate and thanked 
him for the honor. 

The Dog Soldier Indians were a band of 
Cheyennes and of unruly, turbulent members of 
other tribes who would not enter into any treaty, 
and would have kept no treaty if they had made 
one. They had always refused to go on a reserva- 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 145 

tion. They got their name from the word 
'* Cheyenne, " which is derived from chien, the 
French word for ''dog." 

On the third of October the Fifth Cavalry 
arrived at Fort Hays, and I at once began mak- 
ing the acquaintance of the members of the regi- 
ment. General Sheridan introduced me to Colonel 
Koyal, the commander, whom I found a gallant 
oflficer and an agreeable gentleman. I also be- 
came acquainted with Major W. H. Brown, Major 
Walker, Captain Sweetman, Quartermaster E. M. 
Hays, and many others of the men with whom 
I was soon to be associated. 

General Sheridan, being anxious to punish the 
Indians who had lately fought General Forsythe, 
did not give the regiment much of a rest. On 
October 5th it began the march to Beaver Creek 
country. 

The first night we camped on the south fork 
of Big Creek, four miles west of Hays City. By 
this time I had become well acquainted with Major 
Brown and Captain Sweetman. They invited me 
to mess with them, and a jolly mess we had. 
There were other scouts with the command be- 
sides myself. I particularly remember Tom 
Eenahan, Hank Fields, and a character called 
"Nosey." 

The morning of the 6th we pulled out to the 
north. During the day I was particularly struck 
with the appearance of the regiment. It was a 
beautiful command, and when strung out on the 
prairies with a train of seventy-five six-mule 



146 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

wagons, ambulances, and pack-mules, I felt very 
proud of my position as guide and chief of scouts 
with such a warlike expedition. 

Just as we were going into camp on the Saline 
River that night we ran into a band of some 
fifteen Indians. They saw us, and dashed across 
the creek, followed by some bullets which we sent 
after them. 

This little band proved to be only a scouting 
party, so we followed it only a mile or two. Our 
attention was directed shortly to a herd of buf- 
faloes, and we killed ten or fifteen for the com- 
mand. 

Next day we marched thirty miles. When we 
went into camp Colonel Royal asked me to go 
out and kill some buffaloes for the boys. 

''All right, colonel," I said; "send along a 
wagon to bring in the meat." 

' ' I am not in the habit of sending out my wagons 
till I know there is something to be hauled in," 
he said. ''Kill your buffaloes first, and I'll send 
the wagons." 

Without further words I went out on my hunt. 
After a short absence I returned and asked the 
colonel to send his wagons for the half-dozen 
buffaloes I had killed. 

The following afternoon he again requested me 
to go out after buffaloes. I didn't ask for any 
wagons this time, but rode out some distance, and, 
coming upon a small herd, headed seven or eight 
of them directly for the camp. Instead of shoot- 
ing them I ran them at full speed right into the 



1 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 147 

place and then killed them one after another in 
rapid succession. 

Colonel Royal, who witnessed the whole pro- 
ceeding, was annoyed and puzzled, as he could 
see no good reason why I had not killed the 
buffaloes on the prairie. 

Coming up angry, he demanded an explana- 
tion. 

*'I can't allow any such business as this, Cody,'* 
he exclaimed. ''What do you mean by itl" 

"I didn't care about asking for wagons this 
time, Colonel," I replied. "I thought I would 
make the buffaloes furnish their own transporta- 
tion." 

The colonel saw the force of my defense, and 
had no more to say on the subject. 

No Indians had been seen in the vicinity during 
the day. Colonel Royal, having posted his pickets, 
supposed that everything was serene for the night. 
But before morning we were aroused by shots, 
and immediately afterward one of the mounted 
pickets came galloping into camp with the an- 
nouncement that there were Indians close at hand. 

All the companies fell into line, prepared and 
eager for action. The men were still new to In- 
dian fighting. Many of them were excited. 

But, despite the alarm, no Indians made their 
appearance. Upon going to the post where the 
picket said he had seen them, none were to be 
found, nor could the faintest trace be discovered. 

The sentinel, an Irishman, insisted that there 
certainly had been redskins there. 



148 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

"But you must be mistaken," said the 
colonel. 

* ' Upon me sowl, I 'm not. As sure as me name 's 
Pat Maloney, wan iv them red devils hit me on 
th' head with a club, so he did," persisted the 
picket. 

When morning came we made a successful 
effort to clear up the mystery. Elk tracks were 
found in the vicinity, and it was undoubtedly a 
herd of elk that had frightened the picket. When 
he turned to flee he must have hit his head on 
an overhanging limb, which he supposed was the 
club of a redskin, bent on his murder. It was 
hard, however, to convince him that he could have 
been mistaken. 

Three days ' march brought us to Beaver Creek, 
where we encamped and where scouts were sent 
out in different directions. None of these parties 
discovered Indians, and they all returned to camp 
at about the same time. They found it in a state 
of excitement. A few hours before the return 
of the scouts the camp had been attacked by a 
party of redskins, who had killed two men and 
made off with sixty horses belonging to Com- 
pany H. 

That evening the command started on the trail 
of the horse thieves. Major Brown with two com- 
panies and three days' rations pushed ahead in 
advance of the main command. On the eighteenth 
day out, being unsuccessful in the chase, and 
nearly out of rations, the entire command marched 
toward the nearest railroad station and camped 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 149 

on the Saline Eiver, three miles distant from 
Buffalo Tank. 

While waiting for supplies we were joined by 
a new commanding officer, Brevet-Major-General 
E. A. Carr, who was the senior major of the 
regiment and ranked Colonel Eoyal. He brought 
with him the celebrated Forsythe Scouts, who were 
commanded by Lieutenant Pepoon, a regular-army 
officer. 

While in this camp, Major Brown welcomed a 
new lieutenant, who had come to fill a vacancy in 
the command. This was A. B. Bache, and on the 
day he was to arrive Major Brown had his pri- 
vate ambulance brought out and invited me to ride 
with him to the railroad station to meet the lieu- 
tenant. On the way to the depot he said: 

"Now, Cody, we'll give Bache a lively little 
ride, and shake him up a little." 

The new arrival was given a back seat in the 
ambulance when he got off the train, and we 
headed for the camp. 

Presently Major Brown took the reins from his 
driver and at once began whipping the mules. 
When he had got them into a lively gallop he 
pulled out his revolver and fired several shots. 
The road was terribly rough and the night was 
intensely dark. We could not see where we were 
going, and it was a wonderful piece of luck that 
the wagon did not tip over and break our necks. 

Finally Bache asked, good-humoredly : 

*'Is this the way you break in all your new 
lieutenants. Major!" 



150 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

*'0h, no," returned tlie major. ''But this is 
the way we often ride in this country. Keep your 
seat, Mr. Bache, and we'll take you through on 
time," he quoted, from Hank Monk's famous ad- 
monition to Horace Greeley. 

We were now rattling down a steep hill at full 
speed. Just as we reached the bottom, the front 
wheels struck a deep ditch over which the mules 
had jumped. We were all brought up standing, 
and Bache plunged forward headlong to the front 
of the vehicle. 

"Take the back seat, lieutenant," said Major 
Brown sternly. 

Bache replied that he had been trying to do so, 
keeping his nerve and his temper. We soon got 
the wagon out of the ditch and resumed our drive. 
We swung into camp under full headway, and 
created considerable amusement. Everyone rec- 
ognized the ambulance, and knew that Major 
Brown and I were out for a lark, so little was 
said about the exploit. 

Next morning at an early hour the command 
started out on another Indian hunt. General Carr, 
who had a pretty good idea where he would be 
likely to find them, directed me to guide him by 
the nearest route to Elephant Fork, on Beaver 
Creek. 

When we arrived at the South Fork of the 
Beaver, after two days' march, we discovered a 
fresh Indian trail. We had followed it hurriedly 
for eight miles when we discovered, on a bluff 
ahead, a large number of Indians. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 151 

General Carr ordered Lieutenant Pepoon's 
scouts and Company M to the front. Company M 
was commanded by Lieutenant ScMnosky, a reck- 
less dare-devil born in France, who was eager for 
a brush with the Indians. 

In his anxiety to get into the fight he pushed 
his company nearly a mile in advance of the main 
command, when he was jumped by some four hun- 
dred Indians. Until our main force could come 
to his support he had as lively a little fight as 
any one could have asked for. 

As the battle proceeded, the Indians continued 
to increase in numbers. At last it became appar- 
ent that we were fighting eight hundred or a thou- 
sand of them. The engagement was general. 
There were killed and wounded on both sides. 
The Indians were obviously fighting to give their 
families and village a chance to get away. We 
had surprised them with a larger force than they 
knew was in that part of the country. The battle 
continued steadily until dark. We drove them 
before us, but they fought stubbornly. At night 
they annoyed us by firing down into our camp 
from the encircling hills. Several times it was 
necessary to order out the command to dislodge 
them and to drive them back where they could 
do no damage. 

After one of these sallies. Captain Sweetman, 
Lieutenant Bache, and myself were taking supper 
together when ''Whang!" came a bullet into Mr. 
Bache 's plate. We finished our supper without 
having any more such close calls. 



152 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

At daylight next morning we took the trail 
again, soon reaching the spot where the Indians 
had camped the night before. Here there had 
been a large village, consisting of five hundred 
lodges. Continuing our pursuit, we came in sight 
of the retreating village at two in the afternoon. 
^ At once the warriors turned back and gave us 

battle. 

To delay us as much as possible they set fire 
to the prairie grass in front and on all sides of 
us. For the remainder of the afternoon we kept 
up a running fight. Repeatedly the Indians at- 
tempted to lead us away from the trail of their 
fleeing village. But their trail was easily followed 
by the tepee poles, camp-kettles, robes, and 
all the paraphernalia which proved too heavy to 
carry for long, and which were dropped in the 
flight. It was useless to try to follow them after 
. nightfall, and at dark we went into camp. 

Next morning we were again on the trail, which 
led north and back toward Beaver Creek. The 
trail crossed this stream a few miles from where 
we had first discovered the Indians. They had 
made almost a complete circle in the hope of mis- 
leading us. 

Late in the afternoon we again saw them going 
over a hill far ahead. Toward evening the main 
body of warriors once more came back and fought 
us, but we continued to drive them till dusk, when 
we encamped for the night. 

Soon the Indians, finding they could not hold 
put against us, scattered in every direction. We 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 153 

followed the main trail to the Republican River, 
where we made a cut-off and proceeded north to- 
ward the Platte. 

Here we found that the Indians, traveling day 
and night, had got a long start. General Carr 
decided we had pushed them so hard and given 
them such a thorough scaring that they would 
leave the Republican country and go north across 
the railroad. It seemed, therefore, unnecessary 
to pursue them any further. Most of the In- 
dians did cross the river near Ogallah as he pre- 
dicted, and thence continued northward. 

That night we returned to the Republican River 
and camped in a grove of cottonwoods, which I 
named Carr's Grove in honor of our commander. 

General Carr informed me that the next day's 
march would be toward the headwaters of the 
Beaver. I said that the distance was about 
twenty-five miles, and he said we would make it 
the next day. Getting an early start in the morn- 
ing, we struck out across the prairie. My posi- 
tion, as guide, was the advance guard. About 
two o'clock General Carr overtook me and asked 
me how far I supposed it was to water. I replied 
that I thought it was about eight miles, although 
we could see no sign of a stream ahead. 

"Pepoon's scouts say you are traveling in the 
wrong direction," said the general. ''They say, 
the way you are bearing, it will be fifteen miles 
before we strike any branches of the Beaver, and 
that when you do you will find no water, for they 
are dry at this season of the year in this locality." 



154 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

**I think the scouts are mistaken, General," I 
said. *'The Beaver has more water near its head 
than it has below. At the place where we will 
strike the stream we will find immense beaver 
dams, big and strong enough to cross your whole 
command if you wish. ' ' 

*'Well, go ahead," he said. *'I leave it to you. 
But, remember, I don't want a dry camp." 

**No danger of that," I returned and rode on. 
As I predicted, we found water seven or eight 
miles further on. Hidden in the hills was a beau- 
tiful little tributary of the Beaver. We had no 
trouble in selecting a fine camp with good spring 
water and excellent grass. Learning that the 
stream, which was but eight miles long, was with- 
out a name, the general took out his map, and, 
locating it, christened it Cody's Creek, which name 
it still bears. 

Early the next morning we pulled out for the 
Beaver. As we were approaching the stream I 
rode on ahead of the advance guard in order 
to find a crossing. Just as I turned a bend of 
the creek ''Bang I" went a shot, and down went 
my horse, accompanied by myself. 

I disentangled myself and jumped clear of the 
carcass, turning my guns loose at two Indians 
whom I discovered in the direction from which 
the shot had come. In the suddenness of it all 
I missed my aim. The Indians fired two or three 
more shots, and I returned the compliment by 
wounding one of their horses. 

On the other side of the creek I saw a few 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 155 

lodges moving rapidly away, and also mounted 
warriors. They also saw me and began blazing 
away with their guns. The Indians who had killed 
my horse were retreating across the creek, using 
a beaver dam for a bridge. I accelerated their 
pace by sending a few shots after them and also 
fired at the warriors across the stream. I was 
undecided as to whether it would be best to run 
back to the command on foot or to retain my posi- 
tion. The troops, I knew, would come up in a 
few minutes. The sound of the firing would has- 
ten their arrival. 

The Indians soon saw that I was alone. They 
turned and charged down the hill, and were about 
to cross the creek and corral me when the ad- 
vance guard of the command appeared over the 
ridge and dashed forward to my rescue. Then 
the redskins whirled and made off. 

When General Carr arrived he ordered Com- 
pany I to pursue the band. I accompanied Lieu- 
tenant Brady, who commanded the company. For 
several hours we had a running fight with the In- 
dians, capturing several of their horses and most 
of their lodges. At night we returned to the com- 
mand, which by this time had crossed the dam. 

For several days we scouted along the river. 
We had two or three lively skirmishes, but at 
last our supplies began to run low, and the gen- 
eral ordered us to return to Fort Wallace, which 
we reached three days afterward. 

While the regiment remained here, waiting for 
orders, I spent most of my time hunting buffaloes. 



156 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

One day while I was out with a small party, fifty 
Indians jumped us, and we had a terrific battle 
for an hour. We finally managed to drive them 
off, with four of their warriors killed. With me 
were a number of excellent marksmen, and they 
did fine work, sending bullets thick and fast where 
they would do the most execution. 

Two or three of our horses were hit. One man 
was wounded. We were ready and willing to stay 
with the Indians as long as they would stay with 
us. But they gave it up at last. We finished our 
hunt and returned to the Post with plenty of 
buffalo meat. Here we received the compliments 
of General Carr on our little fight. 

In a few days orders came from General Sheri- 
dan to make a winter campaign in the Canadian 
Kiver country. We were to proceed to Fort Lyon 
on the Arkansas River and fit out for the expedi- 
tion. Leaving Fort Wallace in November, 1868, 
we arrived at Fort Lyon in the latter part of the 
month, and began the work of outfitting. 

Three weeks before this. General Penrose had 
left the Post with a command of three hundred 
men. He had taken no wagons with him. His 
supply train was composed of pack mules. Gen- 
eral Carr was ordered to follow with supplies on 
Penrose's trail and to overtake him as soon as 
possible. I was particularly anxious to catch 
up with Penrose's command, as my old friend, 
*'Wild Bill," was among his scouts. 

For the first three days we followed the trail 
easily. Then we were caught in Freeze-Out Caiion 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 157 

by a fearful snowstorm. This compelled us to go 
into camp for a day. 

It now became impossible longer to follow Pen- 
rose 's trail. The ground was covered with snow, 
and he had left no sign to show in which direc- 
tion he was going. 

General Carr sent for me, and told me it was 
highly important that we should not lose the trail. 
He instructed me to take some scouts, and, while 
the command remained in camp, to push on as 
far as possible to seek for some sign that would 
indicate the direction Penrose had taken. 

Accompanied by four men, I started out in a 
blinding snowstorm. We rode twenty-four miles 
in a southerly direction till we reached a tribu- 
tary of the Cimarron. From here we scouted up 
and down the stream for a few miles, and at last 
turned up one of Penrose's old camps. 

It was now late in the afternoon. If the camp 
was to come up the next day it was necessary for 
us to return immediately with our information. 

We built a fire in a sheltered spot, broiled some 
venison we had shot during the day, and after 
a substantial meal I started back alone, leaving 
the others behind. 

It was eleven o'clock when I got back into camp. 
A light was still burning in General Carr's tent. 
He was sitting up to await my return. He was 
overjoyed at the news I brought him. He had 
been extremely anxious concerning the safety of 
Penrose. Rousing up his cook, he ordered a hot 
supper for me, which, after my long, cold ride, 



158 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

I greatly appreciated. I passed the night in the 
general's tent, and woke the next morning fully 
refreshed and ready for a big day's work. 

The snow had drifted deeply overnight, and 
the command had a hard tramp through it when 
it set out next morning for the Cimarron. In 
many ravines the drifts had filled in to a great 
depth. Often the teamsters had to shovel their 
way through. 

At sundown we reached the Cimarron, and 
went into a nice warm camp. The next morning, 
on looking around, we found that Penrose, who 
was not encumbered with wagons, had kept on 
the west side of the Cimarron. Here the country 
was so rough that we could not stay on the trail 
with wagons. But we knew that he would continue 
,down the river, and the general gave orders to 
take the best route down-stream, which I found 
to be on the east side. Before we could make any 
headway with our wagon trains we had to leave 
the river and get out on the divide. 

For some distance we found a good road, but 
suddenly we were brought up standing on a high 
table-land overlooking the beautiful winding creek 
that lay far below us. How to get the wagons 
down became a serious problem for the officers. 

We were in the foothills of the rough Eaton 
'Mountains. The bluff we were on was steep and 
rugged. 

'^Cody," said General Carr, ''we're in a nice 
fix now." 

"That's nothing," I replied. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 159 

"But you never can take the train down.** 

"Never mind the train, General. You are look- 
ing for a good camp. How does that valley suit 
you?" 

"That will do," he said. "I can easily de- 
scend with the cavalry, but how to get the wagons 
down is a puzzler." 

"By the time your camp is located the wagons 
will be there," I said. 

"All right," he returned. "I'll leave it to you, 
inasmuch as you seem to want to be the boss." 
He ordered the command to dismount and lead 
the horses down the mountain. When the wagon- 
train, which was a mile in the rear, came up, one 
of the drivers asked: 

"How are we going to get down there?" 

"Run down, slide down, fall down — any way 
to get down, ' ' I told him. 

"We never can do it," said another wagon- 
master. "It's too steep. The wagons will run 
over the mules." 

"Oh, no," I said. "The mules will have to 
keep out of the way.'* 

I instructed Wilson, the chief wagon-master, 
to bring up his mess-wagon. He drove the wagon 
to the brink of the bluff. Following my direc- 
tions, he brought out extra chains with which 
we locked both wheels on each side, and then 
rough-locked them. 

This done, we started the wagons down the hill. 
The wheel-horses, or rather the wheel-mules, were 
good on the hold back, and we got along beauti- 



160 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

fully till the wagon had nearly reached the bottom 
of the declivity. Then the wagon crowded the 
mules so hard that they started on the run and 
came galloping down into the valley to the spot 
General Carr had selected for his camp. There 
was not the slightest accident. 

Three other wagons followed in the same way. 
In half an hour every wagon was in the camp. 
It was an exciting sight to see the six-mule teams 
come almost straight down the mountainside and 
finally break into a run. At times it seemed cer- 
tain that the wagon must turn a somersault and 
land on the mules, but nothing of the kind hap- 
pened. 

Our march proved be a lucky one so far as 
gaining on Penrose was concerned. The route 
he had taken on the west side of the stream was 
rough and bad, and with our great wagon-train 
we made as many miles in one day as he had in 
seven. 

His command had taken a high table-land whose 
sides were so steep that not even a pack mule 
could make the descent, and he had been obliged 
to retrace the trail for a great distance, losing 
three days while doing so. 

The incident of this particular camp we had 
selected was an exciting turkey hunt. We found 
the trees along the river bank literally alive Avith 
turkeys. After unsaddling the horses, two or 
three hundred soldiers surrounded a grove of 
timber, and there was a grand turkey round-up. 
Guns, clubs, and even stones were used as 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 161 

weapons. Of course, after the hunt we had roast 
turkey, boiled turkey, fried turkey, and turkey on 
toast for our fare, and in honor of the birds 
which had provided this treat we named the place 
Camp Turkey. 

When we left camp we had an easy trail for 
several days. Penrose had taken a southerly 
direction toward the Canadian River. No Indians 
were to be seen, nor did we find any signs of them. 

One day, while riding in advance of the com- 
mand down San Francisco Creek, I heard some 
one calling my name from a little bunch of willow 
brush on the opposite bank of the stream. Look- 
ing closely at the spot, I saw a colored soldier. 

'*Sakes alive, Massa Bill, am dat you?" shouted 
the man, whom I recognized as a member of the 
Tenth Cavalry. 

"Come out o' heah," I heard him call to some- 
one behind him. "Heah's Massa Buffalo Bill." 
Then he sang out to me: '* Massa Bill, is you got 
any hahdtack?" 

*'Nary a bit of hardtack, but the wagons will 
be along presently, and you can get all you want. ' ' 

"Dat's de best news Ah's heahd fo' sixteen long 
days, Massa Bill." 

''Where's your command? Where's General 
Penrose? " I demanded. 

"Dunno," said the darky. ''We got lost, an' 
we's been starvin' ever since." 

By this time two other negroes had emerged 
from their hiding-place. They had deserted Pen- 
rose's command, which was out of rations and in 



1C2 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

a starving condition. They were trying to make 
their way back to old Fort Lyon. General Carr 
concluded, from what they could tell him, that 
Penrose was somewhere on PoUadora Creek. But 
nothing definite was to be gleaned from the starv- 
ing darkies, for they knew very little themselves. 

General Carr was deeply distressed to learn 
that Penrose and his men were in such bad shape. 
He ordered Major Brown to start out the next 
morning with two companies of cavalry and fifty 
pack mules, loaded with provisions, and to make 
all possible speed to reach and relieve the suffer- 
ing soldiers. I went with this detachment. On 
the third day out we found the half -famished sol- 
diers encamped on the Polladora. The camp pre- 
sented a pitiful sight. For over two weeks the 
men had only quarter rations and were now nearly 
starved to death. Over two hundred mules were 
lying dead, having succumbed to fatigue and star- 
vation. 

Penrose, having no hope that he would be found, 
had sent back a company of the Seventh Cavalry 
to Fort Lyon for supplies. As yet no word had 
been heard from them. The rations brought by 
Major Brown arrived none too soon. They were 
the means of saving many lives. 

Almost the first man I saw after reaching the 
camp was my true and tried friend, ''Wild Bill." 
That night we had a jolly reunion around the 
campfires. 

When General Carr came up with his force, he 
took command of all the troops, as he was the 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 163 

senior officer. When a good camp had been 
selected he unloaded his wagons and sent them! 
back to Fort Lyon for supplies. He then picked 
out five hundred of the best men and horses, and, 
taking his pack-train with him, started south for 
the Canadian River. The remainder of the troops 
were left at the supply camp. 

I was ordered to accompany the expedition 
bound for the Canadian River. We struck the 
south fork of this stream at a point a few 
miles above the old adobe walls that were once 
a fort. Here Kit Carson had had a big Indian 
fight. 

We were now within twelve miles of a new 
supply depot called Fort Evans, established for 
the Third Cavalry and Evans's expedition from 
New Mexico, 

The scouts who brought this information re- 
ported also that they expected the arrival of a 
bull-train from New Mexico with a large quan- 
tity of beer for the soldiers. 

''Wild Bill" and I determined to ''lay" for 
this beer. That very evening it came along, and 
the beer destined for the soldiers at Fort Evans 
never reached them. It went straight down the 
thirsty throats of General Carr's command. 

The Mexicans living near Fort Evans had 
brewed the beer. They were taking it to Fort 
Evans to sell to the troops. But it found a better 
market without going so far. It was sold to our 
boys in pint cups, and, as the weather was very 
cold, we warmed it by putting the ends of our 



164 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

picket pins, heated red-hot, into the brew before 
we partook of it. The result was one of the big- 
gest beer jollifications it has ever been my mis- 
fortune to attend. 

One evening General Carr summoned me to his 
tent. He said he wanted to send some scouts with 
dispatches to Fort Supply, to be forwarded from 
there to General Sheridan. He ordered me to 
call the scouts together and to select the men 
who were to go. 

I asked if I were to go, but he replied that he 
could not spare me. The distance to Camp Sup- 
ply was about two hundred miles. Because of the 
very cold weather it was sure to be a hard trip. 
None of the scouts were at all keen about under- 
taking it, but it was finally settled that "Wild 
Bill," ''Little Geary," a half-breed, and three 
other scouts should carry the dispatches. They 
took their departure the next day with orders to 
return as soon as possible. 

We scouted for several days along the Cana- 
dian River, finding no sign of Indians. The gen- 
eral then returned to camp, and soon our wagon- 
train returned with provisions from Fort Lyon. 
.Our animals were in poor condition, so we re- 
mained in different camps along San Francisco 
Creek and on the North Fork of the Canadian till 
"Wild Bill" and his scouts returned from Fort 
Supply. 

Among the scouts in Penrose's command were 
fifteen Mexicans. Among them and the Ameri- 
cans a bitter feud existed. When Carr united 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 165 

Penrose's command with his own, and I was 
made chief of scouts, this feud grew more intense 
than ever. The Mexicans often threatened to 
''clean us out," but they postponed the execu- 
tion of the threat from time to time. At last, 
however, when we were all in the sutler's store, 
the long-expected fight took place, with the result 
that the Mexicans were severely beaten. 

On hearing of the row. General Carr sent for 
"Wild Bill" and me. From various reports he 
had made up his mind that we were the instigators 
of the affair. After listening to what we had to 
say, however, he decided that the Mexicans were 
as much to blame as we were. It is possible that 
both "Wild Bill" and I had imbibed a few more 
drinks than we needed that evening. General 
Carr said to me: 

"Cody, there are plenty of antelopes in the 
country. You can do some hunting while we stay 
here. ' ' After that my time was spent in the chase, 
and I had fine success. I killed from twenty to 
twenty-five antelopes every day, and the camp 
was supplied with fresh meat. 

When the horses and mules belonging to the 
outfit had been sufficiently recruited to travel, we 
returned to Fort Lyon, reaching there in March, 
1869. The command recruited and rested for 
thirty days before proceeding to the Depart- 
ment of the Platte, whither it had been 
ordered. 

At my request, General Carr kindly granted me 
a month's leave of absence to visit my family in 



166 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

St. Louis. He instructed Captain Hays, our quar- 
termaster, to let me ride my mule and horse to 
Sheridan, 140 miles distant. At Sheridan I was 
to take the train for St. Louis. 

I was instructed to leave the animals in the 
quartermaster's corral at Fort Wallace until I 
should come back. Instead of doing this, I put 
them both in charge of my old friend Perry, the 
hotel-keeper at Sheridan. 

After twenty days, pleasantly spent with my 
family at St. Louis, I returned to Sheridan. There 
I learned that my horse and mule had been seized 
by the Government. 

The quartermaster's agent at Sheridan had re- 
ported to General Bankhead, commanding at Fort 
Wallace, and to Captain Laufer, the quartermas- 
ter, that I had left the country and had sold the 
animals to Perry. Laufer took possession of the 
animals, and threatened to have Perry arrested 
for buying Government property. He refused to 
pay any attention to Perry's statement that I 
would return in a few days, and that the animals 
had merely been left in his care. 

As soon as I found this out I proceeded to the 
office of the quartermaster's agent who had told 
this lie, and gave him the thrashing he richly de- 
served. When I had finished with him he hastened 
to the fort, reported what had happened, and re- 
turned with a guard to protect him. 

Next morning, securing a horse from Perry, 
I rode to Fort Wallace and demanded my horse 
and mule from General Bankhead. I told him 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 167 

they were Quartermaster Hays's property and 
belonged to General Carr's command, and ex- 
plained that I had obtained permission to ride 
them to Sheridan and return. 

General Bankhead gruffly ordered me out of 
his office and off the reservation, declaring that 
if I didn't leave in a hurry he would have me re- 
moved by force. 

I told him he might do this and be hanged, using, 
very possibly, a stronger expression. That night, 
while sleeping at the Perry House, I was awak- 
ened by a tap on my shoulder and was astonished 
to see the room filled with armed negro soldiers 
with their guns all pointed at me. The first word 
came from the sergeant. 

**Now looka heah, Massa Bill; if you move we'll 
blow you off de f ahm, suah ! ' ' Just then Captain 
Ezekial entered, and ordered the soldiers to stand 
back. 

**I'm sorry, Bill," he said, when I demanded to 
know what this meant. ''But I've been ordered 
by General Bankhead to arrest you and bring you 
to Fort Wallace." 

* ' All right, ' ' said I. ' ' But you could have made 
the arrest without bringing the whole Thirty- 
eighth Infantry with you." 
• "I know that. Bill, but you've not been in a 
very good humor the last day or two, and we 
didn't know how you'd act." 

I dressed hurriedly and accompanied the cap- 
tain to Fort Wallace. When we reached there 
at two o'clock in the morning the captain said: 



168 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

"Bill, I'm sorry, but my orders are to put you 
in the guardhouse." 

I told him I did not blame him for carrying 
out orders, and was made a guardhouse prisoner 
for the first and only time in my life. The ser- 
geant of the guard, who was an old friend from 
Captain Graham's company, refused to put me 
in a cell, kindly allowing me to sleep in his own 
bed, and in a few minutes I was sound asleep. 

Captain Graham called to see me in the morn- 
ing. He said it was a shame to lock me up, and 
promised to speak to the general about it. At 
guard-mount, when I was not summoned, I sent 
word to Captain Graham that I wanted to see Gen- 
eral Bankhead. He sent back word that the gen- 
eral refused to have anything to do with me. 

As it was impossible to send word to General 
Carr, I determined to send a dispatch direct to 
General Sheridan. I wrote out a long telegram, 
informing him of my difficulty. But when it was 
taken to the telegraph office for transmission the 
operator refused to send it at once. Instead he 
showed it to General Bankhead, who tore it up. 
When no reply came I went to the office, accom- 
panied by a guard, and learned from the opera- 
tor what he had done. 

*'See here, my young friend," said I, ''this is 

a public telegraph line. I want my telegram sent, 

yOT there'll be trouble." 

y^ He knew very well it was his duty to send the 

dispatch. I rewrote it and gave it to him, with 

the money to pay for it. But before he made 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 169 

any effort to transmit it he called on General 
Bankhead and informed him of what I had said. 
Seeing that the dispatch would have to go through, 
the general sent for me. 

''If I let you go, sir, mil you leave the Post 
at once and not bother anyone at Sheridan?" he 
demanded. 

"No, sir," I replied, "I'll do nothing of the 
kind. I'll remain in the guardhouse till I get 
an answer from General Sheridan." 

"If I give you your horse and mule will you 
proceed at once to Fort Lyon?" 

"No, sir; I have some bills to settle at Sheri- 
dan and some other business to transact." 

"Well, sir, will you at least promise not to 
interfere any further with the quartermaster's 
agent at Sheridan?" 

"I shall not trouble him any more, sir. I have 
had all I want from him." 

General Bankhead thereupon sent for Captain 
Laufer and ordered him to turn the horse and 
mule over to me. In a few minutes I was on my 
way to Sheridan, and, having settled my business 
there, I proceeded to Fort Lyon, arriving there 
two days afterward. I related my adventures to 
General Carr, Major Brown, and the other offi- 
cers, who were highly amused thereby. 



CHAPTER VI 

When I returned to General Carr's command 
after my experience as a prisoner I was informed 
that the general had been waiting for me for two 
weeks. 

*^I'm glad you've come, Bill," said the general. 
"While we've been at this Post a number of 
valuable animals have been stolen, as well as 
many Government horses and mules. We think 
the thieves are still near the fort. Fresh tracks 
have been found near Fort Lyon. Perhaps Bill 
Green, the scout who has been up there, can tell 
you something about them." 

Sending for Green, I found that he had marked 
the place where he had lost the trail of the 
marauders. 

Next morning, accompanied by Green, Jack 
Farley, and another scout, I set out after the 
horse-thieves. 

While making a circuit about the tracks we 
had found leading away from the spot where 
Green discovered them, we found the trail of 
twelve animals — four mules and eight horses — 
in the edge of the sandhills. 

From this point we had no trouble in trailing 
them down to the Arkansas Eiver. This stream 
they had followed toward Denver, whither they 
were undoubtedly bound. 

170 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 171 

When we got within fonr miles of Denver we 
found that the thieves had passed four days be- 
fore. I concluded that they had decided to dis- 
pose of the animals in Denver. I was aware that 
Saturday was the big auction day there, so we 
went to a hotel outside the town to await that 
day. I was too well known in the city to show 
myself there, for the thieves would have taken 
alarm had they learned of my presence. 

Early Saturday morning we rode into the city 
and stabled our animals at the Elephant Corral. 
I secured a room in a hotel overlooking the cor- 
ral, and took up a post of observation. I did not 
have to wait long. 

A man, whom I recognized at once as Williams, 
one of our old packers, rode into the ring, mounted 
on Lieutenant Forbush's mule, and leading an- 
other Government mule. This mule had been re- 
cently branded, and over the "U. S." a plain 
''D B" had been stamped. 

As the man's confederate did not appear I de- 
cided he was outside with the rest of the stolen 
animals. 

When Mr. Forbush's mule was put up at auc- 
tion I came down to the corral and walked through 
the crowd of bidders. 

The packer saw me, and tried to get away, but 
I seized him firmly by the shoulder. 

**I guess, my friend," said I, ''that you'll have 
to go with me. Make any resistance and I'll shoot 
you on the spot!" 

To the auctioneer and an inquisitive officer I 



172 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

showed my commission as a United States de- 
tective. With Farley and Green, who were close 
at hand, I took my prisoner three miles down the 
Platte. There we dismounted, and began prepa- 
rations to hang our prisoner to a limb. We in- 
formed him that he could escape this fate only 
by telling us where his partner was hidden. 

He at first denied having any partner, but when 
we gave him five minutes to live unless he told 
the truth, he said his pal was in an unoccupied 
house three miles farther down the river. 

We took up our journey, and, coming in sight 
of the house, saw a number of animals grazing 
near it. As we rode to the door, another of our 
old packers, whom I recognized as Bill Bevins, 
stepped to the front door. I instantly covered 
him with my rifle and ordered him to throw up 
his hands before he could draw his revolver. 

Looking through the house, we found saddles, 
pack-saddles, lariats, blankets, overcoats, and two 
Henry rifles. We returned with the whole outfit 
to Denver, where we lodged Williams and Bevins 
in jail. The next day we tied each man to a mule 
and started on the return journey. 

At the hotel where we had stopped before mak- 
ing the arrests, we were joined by our man with 
the pack mule. That night we camped on Cherry 
Creek, seventeen miles from Denver. 

It was April, and the weather was cold and 
stormy. We found a warm and cozy camping- 
place in the bend of the creek. We made our 
beds in a row — feet to the fire. The prisoners 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 173 

had thus far been docile and I did not think it 
necessary to hobble them. They slept inside, and 
it was arranged that some one was to be con- 
stantly on guard. About one o 'clock in the morn- 
ing it began snowing. Shortly before three, Jack 
Farley, who was on guard, and sitting at the foot 
of the bed with his back to the prisoners, was 
kicked inrto the fire by Williams. The next in- 
stant Bevins, who had got hold of his shoes, 
sprang up, jumped over the fire, and started away 
on the run. 

As soon as I was enough awake to comprehend 
what was going on I sent a shot after him. Will- 
iams attempted to follow Bevins, but as he did 
so I knocked him down with the butt of my re- 
volver. Farley had by this time got out of the 
fire. Green had started after Bevins, firing at 
him as he ran, but the thief made his escape into 
the brush. 

In his flight, unfortunately for him, he dropped 
one of his shoes. ^ 

Leaving Williams in charge of Farley and 
**Long Doc," the man with the pack mule. Green 
and I struck out for Bevins. We heard him break- 
ing through the brush, but, knowing it would be 
useless to try to follow him on foot, we went back 
and saddled two of the fastest horses. At day- 
light we struck out on his trail, which was plainly 
visible in the snow. 

Though he had an hour and a half's start his 
track lay through a country covered with prickly 
pear. We knew that with a bare foot he could 



174 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

make little progress. "We could see, however, 
by the long jumps he was taking, that he was 
making excellent time. Soon the trail became 
spotted with blood, where the thorns of the 
prickly pear had pierced his shoeless foot. 

After a run of twelve miles we saw Bevins cross- 
ing a ridge two miles ahead. We reached the 
ridge just as he was descending the divide toward 
the South Platte, which at this point was very 
deep and swift. 

If he got across the stream he stood a good 
chance of escape. We pushed our horses as fast 
as possible, and when we got within range I told 
him to halt or I would shoot. He knew I was 
a good shot, and coolly sat do^vn to wait for us. 

*' Bevins, you gave us a good chase," I said, 
as we rode up. 

*'Yes," he returned calmly, **and if I'd had 
fifteen minutes' more start and got across the 
Platte you'd never have caught me." 

Bevins 's flight was the most remarkable feat 
of its kind I have ever heard of. A man who 
could run barefooted in the snow through a 
prickly-pear patch was surely a ''tough one." 
When I looked at the man's bleeding foot I really 
felt sorry for him. He asked me for my knife, 
and when I gave it to him he dug the thorns out 
of his foot with its sharp point. I consider him 
the gamest man I ever met. 

I could not suffer a man with such a foot to 
walk, so I dismounted, and he rode my horse back 
to camp, while Green and I rode the other horse 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWX STORY 175 

by turns. We kept a close watch on our prisoner. 
We had had plenty of proof that he needed it. 
His injured foot must have pained him fearfully, 
but never a word of complaint escaped him. 

After breakfasting we resumed our journey. 
We had no further trouble till we reached the 
Arkansas Eiver, where we found a vacant cabin 
and took possession of it for the night. 

There was no fear that Bevins would try to 
escape. His foot was swollen to a great size, and 
was useless. Believins: that Williams could not 
get away from the cabin, we unbotmd him. 

The cabin was comfortably warmed and well- 
lighted by the fire. We left ' ' Long Doc ' ' on guard 
and went to sleep. 

At one o'clock WiUiams asked "Doc" to allow 
him to step to the door for a minute. "Doc" 
had his revolver in hand, and did not think it 
necessary to waken us. He granted the request. 
With "Doc," revolver in hand, watching him, 
Williams walked to the outer edge of the floor. 
Suddenly he made a spring to the right and was 
out of sight in the black darkness before his guard 
could even raise his revolver. 

"Doc" leaped after him, firing just as he 
rounded the comer of the cabin. The report 
brought us aU to our feet. I at once covered 
Bevins with my revolver, but, seeing that he could 
barely stir, I lowered it. 

Then in came "Doc," swearing a blue streak 
and annotmcing that Williams had escaped. Noth- 
ing was left us but to gather our horses close to 



176 BUFFALO BILLYS OWN STORY 

the cabin and stand guard the rest of the night 
to prevent the possibility of our late prisoner 
sneaking in and getting away with one of them. 
This was the last I ever saw or heard of Williams, 
but we got back to Fort Lyon with Bevins. 

Though we had lost one of our prisoners, Gen- 
eral Carr complimented us on the success of our 
trip. The next day we took Bevins to Bogg's 
Ranch, on Picket Wire Creek, where he was to 
await trial. But he never was tried. He 
made his escape, as I had expected he would 
do. 

In 1872 I heard that he was at his old tricks 
on Laramie Plains. A little later he sent word 
to me that if he ever met me he would kill me on 
sight. Shortly thereafter he was arrested and con- 
victed for robbery, but made his escape from 
Laramie City prison. Later he organized a des- 
perate gang of outlaws which infested the country 
north of the Union Pacific. When the stage be- 
gan running between Cheyenne and Deadwood, 
these outlaws robbed coaches and passengers, 
often making big hauls of plunder. Finally inost 
of the gang were caught, tried, and convicted, and 
sent to the penitentiary for a number of years. 
Bevins was among the number. 

Soon after my return to Fort Lyon, the Fifth 
Cavalry was ordered to the Department of the 
Platte. While we were at Fort Wallace, getting 
supplies en route I passed the quarters of General 
Bankhead, who had ordered my arrest on the occa- 
sion of my last visit to that Post. The general 



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BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 177 

sent out for me, and as I entered his ofl&ce he ex- 
tended his hand. 

*'l hope you have no hard feelings for me, 
Cody," he said. "I have just had a talk with 
General Carr and Quartermaster Hays. If you 
had told me you had permission to ride that horse 
and mule, there would have been no trouble. ' ' 

''That's all right. General," I said. "I don't 
believe your quartermaster's agent will ever cir- 
culate any more false stories about me." 

''No," said the general; "he hasn't recovered 
yet from the beating you gave him." 

When the command reached the north fork of 
the Beaver, I rode down the valley toward the 
stream, and discovered a large fresh Indian trail. 
I found tracks scattered all over the valley and 
on both sides of the creek, as if a large village 
had recently passed that way. I estimated there 
could not be less than four hundred lodges, or be- 
tween twenty-five hundred and three thousand 
warriors, women, and children in the band. 

When I reported my discovery to General Carr, 
he lialted his regiment, and, after consulting a 
few minutes, ordered me to select a ravine, or as 
low ground as possible, so that the troops might 
be kept out of sight of the Indians until we could 
strike the creek. 

We went into camp on the Beaver. The general 
ordered Lieutenant Ward to take twelve men and 
myself and follow up the trail for several miles. 
Our orders were to find out how fast the Indians 
were traveling. I soon made up my mind by the 



178 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

frequency of their camps that they were moving 
slowly, hunting as they journeyed. 

After we had scouted about twelve miles, keep- 
ing our horses well concealed under the bank of 
the creek. Ward and I left our horses and crept 
to a high knoll where there was a good view for 
some distance down-stream. As we looked over 
the summit of the hill we saw a whole Indian 
village, not three miles away. Thousands of 
ponies were grazing on the prairie. To our left, 
on the opposite side of the creek, two or three 
parties of Indians were coming in, laden with 
buffalo meat. 

"This is no place for us, Lieutenant," said I. 
*'I think we have business at the camp which 
must be attended to as soon as possible." 

' * I agree with you, ' ' he returned. ^ ' The quicker 
we get there the better." 

We came down the hill as fast as we could 
and joined our men. Lieutenant Ward hurriedly 
wrote a note and sent it to General Carr by a 
corporal. As the man started away on a gallop 
Ward said: "We will march slowly back until 
we meet the troops. I think General Carr will 
soon be here." 

A minute or two later we heard shots in the 
direction taken by our courier. Presently he 
came flying back around the bend of the creek, 
with three or four Indians in hot pursuit. The 
lieutenant, with his squad of soldiers, charged 
upon them. They turned and ran across the 
stream. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 179 

**This will not do," said Ward, when the last 
redskin had disappeared. ' ' The whole village will 
know the soldiers are near by." 

"Lieutenant," said I, *'give me that note. I'll 
take it to the general." 

He gladly handed me the dispatch. Spurring 
my horse, I dashed up the creek. Soon I observed 
another party of Indians returning to the village 
with meat. I did not wait for them to attack 
me, but sent a shot after them at long range. 

In less than an hour I reached the camp and 
delivered the dispatch to General Carr. "Boots 
and Saddles" was sounded, and aU the troops 
save two companies, which were left to guard the 
supply train, were soon galloping toward the In- 
dian camp. 

When we had ridden three miles we met Lieu- 
tenant Ward. He had run into a party of Indian 
hunters. One of their number had been killed in 
the encounter, and one of Ward's horses had been 
wounded. 

At the end of five miles we came in sight of 
hundreds of Indians, advancing up the creek to 
meet us. 

They formed a complete line on our front. Gen- 
eral Carr, who wanted to strike their ^'illage, or- 
dered the troops to charge, break through the line, 
and keep straight on. 

No doubt this movement would have been suc- 
cessfully executed had it not been for the dare- 
devil, rattle-brained Lieutenant Schinosky, com- 
manding Company B. Misunderstanding the or- 



180 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

ders, he charged on the Indians on the left, while 
the rest of the command swept through the line. 
The main body was keeping straight on toward 
the village when it was discovered that Schinosky 
and his company were surrounded by five hundred 
Indians. 

To save the company, General Carr was forced 
to order a halt and hurry back to the rescue. Dur- 
ing the short fight Schinosky had several men and 
a number of horses killed. 

Valuable time had been consumed by the rescue. 
Night was coming on. The Indians were fighting 
desperately to keep us from reaching their village, 
whose population, having been informed by cour- 
ier of what was going on, was packing up and 
getting away. 

During the afternoon we had all we could do 
to hold our own with the mounted warriors. They 
stayed stubbornly in our front, contesting every 
inch of ground. 

The wagon-train, which had been ordered to 
come up, had not arrived. Fearful that it had 
been surrounded. General Carr ordered the com- 
mand to return and look for it. We found it at 
nine o'clock that night, and went into camp. 

Next morning, when we moved down the creek, 
not an Indian was to be seen. Village and all, 
they had disappeared. Two miles down the 
stream we came to a spot where the village had 
been located. Here we found many articles which 
had been left in the hurry of flight. These we 
gathered up and burned. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 181 

The trail, which we followed as rapidly as pos- 
sible, led northeast toward the Eepublican River. 
On reaching that stream a halt was ordered. Next 
morning at daylight we again pulled out. We 
gained rapidly on the Indians, and could occa- 
sionally see them from a distance. 

About eleven o 'clock that morning, while Major 
Babcock was ahead with his company, and as we 
were crossing a deep ravine, we were surprised 
by perhaps three hundred warriors. They at once 
began a lively fire. Our men galloped out of the 
ravine to the rough prairie and returned it. We 
soon succeeded in driving the enemy before us. 
At one time we were so close upon them that they 
threw away most of their lodges and camp equip- 
ment, and left their played-out horses behind them. 
For miles we could see Indian furniture strewn 
in all directions. 

Soon they scattered into small bodies, dividing 
the trail. At night our horses began to give out, 
and a halt was called. A company was detailed to 
collect all the loose Indian ponies, and to burn the 
abandoned camp equipment. 

We were now nearly out of rations. I was sent 
for supplies to the nearest supply point, old Fort 
Kearney, sixty miles distant. 

Shortly after this the command reached Fort 
McPherson, which for some time thereafter con- 
tinued to be the headquarters of the Fifth Cavalry. 
We remained there for ten days, fitting out for 
a new expedition. We were reenforced by three 
companies of the celebrated Pawnee Indian Scouts, 



182 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

commanded by Major Frank North. At General 
Carr's recommendation I was now made cliief of 
scouts in the Department of the Platte, with bet- 
ter pay. I had not sought this position. 

I became a firm friend of Major North and his 
officers from the start. The scouts had made a 
good reputation for themselves. They had per- 
formed brave and valuable services in fighting 
against the Sioux, whose bitter enemies they were. 
During our stay at Fort McPherson I made the 
acquaintance of Lieutenant George P. Belden, 
known as "The White Chief." His life has been 
written by Colonel Brisbin, of the army. Belden 
was a dashing rider and an excellent shot. An 
hour after our introduction he challenged me to 
a rifle match, which was at once arranged. 

We were to shoot ten shots each at two hun- 
dred yards for fifty dollars a side. Belden was 
to use a Henry rifle. I was to shoot my old *'Lu- 
cretia." This match I won. Belden at once pro- 
posed another, a hundred-yard match, as I was 
shooting over his distance. This he won. We 
were now even, and we stopped right there. 

While we were at Fort McPherson, General 
Augur and Brevet-Brigadier-General Thomas 
Duncan, colonel of the Fifth Cavalry, paid us a 
visit for the purpose of reviewing our command. 
The men turned out in fine style, and showed 
themselves to be well-drilled soldiers. Next the 
Pawnee scouts were reviewed. It was amusing to 
see them in their full uniform. They had been 
supplied with the regular cavalry uniform, but 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 183 

on this occasion some of them had heavy over- 
coats, others large black hats with all the brass 
accoutrements attached; some were minus trous- 
ers and wore only breech-clouts. Some had regu- 
lation pantaloons, but only shirts. Part of them 
had cut the breech of their pantaloons away, leav- 
ing only the leggings. Still others had big brass 
spurs, but wore no boots nor moccasins. 

But they understood the drill remarkably well 
for Lidians. The commands were given them 
by Major North, who spoke their tongue as readily 
as any full-blooded Pawnee. They were well 
mounted, and felt proud of the fact that they 
were regular United lotates soldiers. That eve- 
ning after the drill many ladies attended the 
dance of the Indians. Of all savages I have ever 
seen, the Pawnees are the most accomplished 
dancers. 

Our command set out on the trail the next 
day. Shortly afterward, when we were encamped 
on the Republican River near the mouth of the 
Beaver, we heard the yells of Indians, followed 
by shots, in the vicinity of our mule herd, which 
had been driven down to water. 

Presently one of the herders, with an arrow 
still quivering in his flesh, came dashing into the 
camp. 

My horse was close at hand. Mounting him 
bareback, I galloped after the mule herd, which 
had been stampeded. I supposed that I would 
be the first man on the scene. But I found I was 
mistaken. The Pawnee scouts, unlike regular 



184 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

soldiers, had not waited for the formality of or- 
ders from their officers. Jumping their ponies 
bareback and putting ropes in the animals' 
mouths, they had hurried to the place from which 
the shots came and got there before I did. 

The marauders proved to be a party of fifty 
or more Sioux, who had endeavored to stampede 
our animals. They were painfully surprised to 
find their inveterate enemies, the Pawnees, com- 
ing toward them at full gallop. They had no 
idea the Pawnees were with the command. They 
knew that it would take regular soldiers a few 
minutes to turn out, and fancied they would 
have plenty of time to stampede the herd and get 
away. 

In a running fight of fifteen or twenty miles 
several of the Sioux were killed. I was mounted 
on an excellent horse Colonel Royal had selected 
for me. For the first mile or two I was in ad- 
vance of the Pawnees. Soon a Pawnee shot past 
me. I could not help admiring the horse he was 
riding. I determined that if possible that horse 
should be mine. He was a big buckskin, or yellow 
horse. I took a careful look at him, so as to 
recognize him when we got back to camp. 

After the chase was over I rode over to Major 
North and asked him about the animal. I was 
told that he was one of the favorite steeds of 
the command. 

''What chance is there to trade for him I" I 
asked. 

*'It is a Government horse," replied the Ma- 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 185 

jor. *'The Indian who rides him is very much 
attached to him." 

I told Major North I had fallen in love with 
the horse, and asked if he had any objections 
to my trying to secure him. He replied that he 
had not. A few days later, after making the 
Indian several presents, I persuaded him to trade 
horses with me. In this way I became possessed 
of the buckskin, although he still remained Gov- 
ernment property. I named him Buckskin Joe, 
and he proved to be a second Brigham. 

I rode him during the summers of '69, '70, '71, 
and '72. He was the horse ridden by the Grand 
Duke Alexis on his buffalo hunt. In the winter 
of '72, after I had left Fort McPherson, Buckskin 
Joe was condemned and sold at public sale to 
Dave Perry at North Platte. In 1877 he pre- 
sented him to me. He remained on my ranch 
on the Dismal Eiver for many years, stone blind, 
until he died. 

At the end of twenty days, after a few un- 
important running fights, we found ourselves 
back to the Eepublican Eiver. 

Hitherto the Pawnee scouts had not taken much 
interest in me. But while at the camp I gained 
their respect and admiration by showing them 
how to kill buffaloes. Though they were excellent 
buffalo killers, for Indians, I had never seen them 
kill more than four or five animals in one run. 
A number of them would surround a herd and 
dash in on it, each one killing from one to four 
buffaloes. I had gone out in company with Major 



186 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

North, and watched them make a ''surround.*' 
Twenty Pawnees, circling a herd, killed thirty- 
two buffaloes. 

As they were cutting up the animals, another 
herd appeared. The Pawnees were getting ready 
to surround it, when I asked Major North to keep 
them back to let me show them what I could do. 
He did as I requested. I knew Buckskin Joe was 
a good buffalo horse, and, feeling confident that 
I would astonish the Indians, I galloped in among 
the herd. I did astonish them. In less than a 
half-mile run I dropped thirty-six, killing a buffalo 
at nearly every shot. The dead animals were 
strung out over the prairie less than fifty feet 
apart. This manner of killing greatly pleased 
the Indians. They called me "Big Chief," and 
thereafter I had a high place in their esteem. 

We soon left the camp and took a westward 
course up the Republican River. Major North, 
with two companies of his Pawnees, and Colonel 
Royal, with two or three companies of cavalry, 
made a scout north of the river. 

After making camp on the Blacktail Deer Fork 
we observed a band of Indians coming over the 
prairie at full gallop, singing and yelling and 
waving their lances and long poles. We first sup- 
posed them to be the hostile Sioux, and for a few 
moments all was excitement. But the Pawnees, 
to our surprise, made no effort to go out to attack 
them. Presently they began singing themselves. 
Major North walked over to General Carr and 
said: 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 187 

* ' General, those are our men. They had had a 
fight. That is the way they act when they come 
back from battle with captured scalps." 

The Pawnees came into camp on the run. We 
soon learned that they had run across a party of 
Sioux who were following a big Indian trail. The 
Sioux had evidently been in a fight. Two or three 
had been wounded, and were being carried by 
the others. The Pawnees '* jumped" them, and 
killed three or four of their number. 

Next morning our command came up to the 
Indian trail where the Sioux had been found. We 
followed it for several days. From the number 
of campfires we passed we could see that we were 
gaining on the Sioux. 

Wherever they had camped we found the print 
of a woman's shoe. This made us all the more 
eager to overtake them, for it was plain that they 
had a white woman as their captive. 

All the best horses were selected by the general, 
and orders were given for a forced march. The 
wagon-train was to follow as rapidly as possible, 
while the command pushed on ahead. 

I was ordered to pick out five or six of the best 
Pawnees and proceed in advance of the command, 
keeping ten or twelve miles ahead, so that when 
the Indians were overtaken we could learn the 
location of their camp, and give the troops the 
required information in time to plan an effective 
attack. 

When we were ten miles in advance of the regi- 
ment we began to move cautiously. We looked 



188 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

carefully over the summits of the hills before ex- 
posing ourselves to observation from the front. 
At last we made out the village, encamped in the 
sandhills south of the South Platte River at Sum- 
mit Springs. 

Here I left the Pawnees to watch, while I rode 
back to the command and informed General Carr 
that the Indians were in sight. 

The men were immediately ordered to tighten 
their saddles and otherwise to prepare for action. 
I changed my horse for old Buckskin Joe. He 
had been led for me up to this time, and was 
comparatively fresh. Acting on my suggestion, 
General Carr made a circuit to the north. I knew 
that if the Indians had scouts out they would 
naturally watch in the direction whence they had 
come. When we had passed the camp, and were 
between it and the river, we turned and started 
back. 

By this maneuver we avoided detection by the 
Sioux scouts. The general kept the command 
wholly out of sight until within a mile of the 
village. Then the advance guard was halted till 
all the soldiers caught up. Orders were issued 
that at the sound of the charge the whole com- 
mand was to rush into the village. 

As we halted on the summit of the hill over- 
looking the still unsuspecting Sioux, General Carr 
called to his bugler: 

''Sound the charge!" 

The bugler, in his excitement, forgot the notes 
of the call. Again the general ordered ''Sound 



1 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 189 

the charge!" and again the musician was unable 
to obey the command. 

Quartermaster Hays, who had obtained permis- 
sion to join the command, comprehended the plight 
of the bugler. Eushing up to him, he seized the 
bugle, and sounded the call himself, in clear, dis- 
tinct tones. As the troops rushed forward he 
threw the bugle away, and, drawing his pistol, 
was among the first to enter the village. The 
"Indians had just driven up their horses and were 
preparing to move camp when they saw the sol- 
diers. 

Many of them jumped on their ponies, and, 
leaving everything behind them, advanced to meet 
the attack. On second thought, however, they de- 
cided it would be useless to resist. Those who 
were mounted rode away, while those on foot fled 
for the neighboring hills. We charged through 
their village, shooting right and left at everything 
we saw. Pawnees, officers, and regular soldiers 
were all mixed together, while the Sioux went 
flying away in every direction. 

The general had instructed the soldiers to keep 
a sharp look-out for white women when they en- 
tered the village. Two were soon found. One 
of them was wounded, and the other had just been 
killed. Both were Swedes, and the survivor could 
not speak English. 

A Swedish soldier was soon found to act as 
interpreter. The woman's name was Weichel. 
She said that as soon as the Indians saw the 
troops coming, a squaw, the wife of Tali Bull, 



190 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

had killed Mrs. Alerdice, her companion in cap- 
tivity, with a hatchet. The infuriated squaw had 
attacked Mrs. Weichel, wounding her. The pur- 
pose of the squaw was apparently to prevent both 
women from telling the soldiers how cruelly they 
had been treated. 

The attack lasted but a little while. The In- 
dians were driven several miles away. The sol- 
diers gathered in the herd of Indian horses, which 
was running wild over the prairie, and drove the 
animals back into camp. After a survey of our 
work we found we had killed about one hundred 
and forty Indians and captured one hundred and 
twenty squaws and papooses, two hundred lodges, 
and eight hundred horses and mules. 

General Carr ordered that all the tepees, lodges, 
buffalo robes, camp equipage, and provisions, in- 
cluding a large quantity of buffalo meat, should 
be gathered and burned. Mrs. Alerdice, the mur- 
dered Swedish captive, was buried. Captain Kane 
read the burial service, as we had no chaplain 
with us. While this was going on, the Sioux war- 
riors recovered from their panic and came back 
to give us battle. All around the attack a fight 
began. I was on the skirmish line, and noticed 
an Indian who was riding a large bay horse, and 
giving orders to his men in his own language. 

I could understand part of what he said. He 
was telling them that they had lost everything 
and were ruined, and was entreating them to 
follow him until they died. The horse this chief 
was riding was extremely fleet. I determined to 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 191 

capture him if possible, but I was afraid to fire 
at the rider lest I kill the horse. 

Often the Indian, as he rode around the skirmish 
line, passed the head of a ravine. It occurred 
to me that if I dismounted and crept up the ravine, 
I could, as he passed, easily drop him from the 
saddle with no fear of hitting the horse. Accord- 
ingly I crept into the ravine and secreted 
myself there to wait till Mr. Chief came rid- 
ing by. 

When he was not more than thirty yards away 
I fired. The next instant he tumbled from the 
saddle, and the horse kept on his way without 
a rider. Instead of running back to the Indians, 
he galloped toward the soldiers, by one of whom 
he was caught. 

Lieutenant Mason, who had been very conspic- 
uous in the fight and had killed two or three In- 
dians himself, came galloping up the ravine, and, 
jumping from his horse, secured the elaborate 
war-bonnet from the head of the dead chief, to- 
gether with all his other accoutrements. 

We both rejoined the soldiers. I started in 
search of the horse, and found him in the pos- 
session of Sergeant McGrath, who had captured 
him. McGrath knew that I had been trying to 
get the horse, and he had seen me kill its rider. 
He handed the animal over to me at once. I little 
thought at the time that I had captured the fastest 
running horse west of the Missouri River, but this 
later proved to be the fact. 

Late that evening our wagon-train arrived. 



192 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

Mrs. Weichel, the wounded woman, had been care- 
fully attended by the surgeons, and we placed 
her in the ambulance. Gathering up the prisoners, 
squaws, and papooses, we set out for the South 
Platte Eiver, eight miles distant, where we went 
into camp. 

Next morning, by order of General Carr, all 
the money found in the village was turned over 
to the adjutant. Above two thousand dollars was 
collected, and the entire amount was given to 
Mrs. Weichel. 

The command now proceeded to Fort Sedgwick, 
from which point the particulars of our fight, 
which took place Sunday, July 11, 1869, was tele- 
graphed to all parts of the country. 

During our two weeks' stay at this Post, Gen- 
eral Augur, of the Department of the Platte, made 
us a visit, and complimented the command highly 
on the gallant service it had performed. Tall 
Bull and his Indians had long been a terror to 
the border settlements. For their crushing de- 
feat, and the killing of the chief, General Carr 
and the command were complimented in General 
Orders. 

Mrs. Weichel was cared for in the Post hos- 
pital. After her recovery she married the hos- 
pital steward. Her former husband had been 
killed by the Indians. Our prisoners were sent 
to the Whetstone Agency, on the Missouri, where 
Spotted Tail and the friendly Sioux were then 
living. The captured horses and mules were dis- 
tributed among the officers and soldiers. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 193 

Among the animals which I thus obtained were 
my Tall Bull horse and a pony which I called 
Powder Face. This animal figured afterward in 
the stories of ''Ned Buntline," and became fa- 
mous. 

One day, while we were waiting at Fort Mc- 
Pherson, General Carr received a telegram an- 
nouncing that the Indians had made a dash on 
the Union Pacific, killing several section men and 
running off stock of 'Fallon's Station. An ex- 
pedition was going out of Fort McPherson to 
catch and punish the redskins if possible. 

I was ordered by General Carr to accompany 
this expedition. That night I proceeded by rail 
to Fort McPherson Station, and from there rode 
horseback to the fort. Two companies, under 
command of Major Brown, had been ordered out. 
Next morning, as we were about to start, Major 
Brown said to me : 

"By the way, Cody, we're going to have a char- 
acter with us on this scout. It's old 'Ned Bunt- 
line,' the novelist." 

At the same time I saw a stoutly built man 
near by who wore a blue military coat. On his 
breast were pinned perhaps twenty badges of 
secret societies and gold medals. He limped a 
little as he approached me, and I concluded that 
this must be the novelist. 

"He has a good mark to shoot at on his left 
breast," I said to Brown, "but he looks like a 
soldier." I was introduced to him by his real 
name, which was Colonel E. Z. C. Judson. 



194 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

*'I was to deliver a temperance lecture to- 
night," said my new acquaintance, ''but no lec- 
ture for me when there is a prospect of a fight. 
The major has offered me a horse, but I don't 
know how I shall stand the ride." 

I assured him that he would soon feel at home 
in the saddle, and we set out. The command 
headed for the North Platte, which had been 
swollen by mountain rains. In crossing we had 
to swim our horses. Buntline was the first man 
across. 

We reached 'Fallon's Station at eleven o'clock. 
In a short time I succeeded in finding an Indian 
trail. The party of Indians, which had come up 
from the south, seemed to be a small one. We 
followed the track of the Indians, to the North 
Platte, but they had a start of two days. Major 
Brown soon abandoned the pursuit, and returned 
to Fort Sedgwick. During this short scout. Bunt- 
line had plied me with questions. He was anxious 
to go out on the next scout with me. 

By this time I had learned that my horse, Tall 
Bull, was a remarkably fast runner. Therefore, 
when Lieutenant Mason, who owned a racer, chal- 
lenged me to a race, I immediately accepted. We 
were to run our horses a single dash of a half 
mile for five hundred dollars a side. 

Several of the officers, as well as Rube Wood, 
the post-trader, offered to make side bets with 
me. I took them up until I had my last cent on 
Tall Bull. 

I saw from the start that it would be easy to 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 195 

"beat the lieutenant's horse, and kept Tall Bull 
in check, so that no one might know how fast he 
really was. I won easily, and pocketed a snug 
Sum. Everybody was now talking horse race. 
Major Brown said that if Tall Bull could beat 
the Pawn.ees' fast horse, I could break his whole 
command. 

The next day all the troops were paid off, in- 
cluding the Pawnees. For two or three days our 
Lidian allies did nothing but run horses, as all 
the lately captured animals had to be tested to 
(determine which was the swiftest. Finally the 
Pawnees offered to run their favorite against Tall 
Bull. They raised three hundred dollars to bet 
on their horse, and I covered the money. In addi- 
tion I took numerous side bets. The race was a 
single dash of a mile. Tall Bull won without any 
trouble, and I was ahead on this race about seven 
hundred dollars. 

I also got up a race for my pony. Powder Face, 
against a fast pony belonging to Major Lute 
North, of the Pawnee Scouts. I selected a small 
boy living at the Post for a jockey, Major North 
rode his own pony. The Pawnees, as usual, 
wanted to bet on their pony, but as I had not 
yet ascertained the running qualities of Powder 
Face I did not care to risk much on him. Had 
I known him as well as I did afterward I would 
have backed him with every cent I had. He proved 
to be one of the swiftest ponies I ever saw, and 
had evidently been kept as a racer. 

The dash between the ponies was to be four 



196 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

hundred yards. When I led Powder Face over 
the course he seemed to understand what he was 
there for. North was on his pony; my boy was 
up. I had all I could do to hold the fiery little 
fellow back. He was so lively on his feet that I 
feared his young rider might not be able to stick 
on his back. 

At last the order to start was given by the 
judges. I brought Powder Face up to the score, 
and the word ''Go!" was given. So swiftly did 
he jump away that he left his rider sitting on 
the ground. Nevertheless he went through and 
won the race without a rider. It was an easy vic- 
tory, and after that I could get no more races. 

General Carr having obtained a leave of ab- 
sence. Colonel Eoyal was given command of an 
expedition that was ordered to go out after the 
Indians. In a few days we set out for the Re- 
publican, where, we had learned, there were plenty 
of Indians. 

At Frenchman's Fork we discovered a village, 
but did not surprise it, for the Indians had seen 
us approaching and were in retreat as we reached 
their camping-place. 

We chased them down-stream and through the 
sandhills, but they made better time than we did, 
and the pursuit was abandoned. 

While we were in the sandhills, scouting the 
Niobrara country, the Pawnee Indians brought 
into camp some very large bones, one of which 
the surgeon of the expedition pronounced to be 
the thigh bone of a human being. The Indians 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 197 

said the bones were those of a race of people who 
long ago had lived in that country. They said 
these people were three times the size of a man 
of the present day, that they were so swift and 
strong that they could run by the side of a buffalo, 
and, taking the animal in one arm, could tear off 
a leg and eat it as they ran. 

These giants, said the Indians, denied the ex- 
istence of a Great Spirit. When they heard the 
thunder or saw the lightning, they laughed and 
declared that they were greater than either. This 
so displeased the Great Spirit that he caused a 
deluge. The water rose higher and higher till it 
drove these proud giants from the low grounds 
to the hills and thence to the mountains. At last 
even the mountaintops were submerged and the 
mammoth men were drowned. 

After the flood subsided, the Great Spirit came 
to the conclusion that he had made men too large 
and powerful. He therefore corrected his mis- 
take by creating a race of the size and strength 
of the men of the present day. This is the reason, 
the Indians told us, that the man of modern times 
is small and not like the giants of old. The story 
has been handed down among the Pawnees for 
generations, but what is its origin no man can say. 



CHAPTER Vn 

One morning, in the spring of 1870, a band of 
horse-stealing Indians raided four ranches near 
the month of Fremont Creek, on the North Platte. 
After scooping up horses from these ranches they 
proceeded to the Fort McPherson herd, which was 
grazing above the Post, and took about forty Gov- 
ernment animals. Among these was my favorite 
little pony. Powder Face. 

When the alarm was given, *' Boots and Sad- 
dles" was sounded. I always kept one of my 
best horses by me, and was ready for any sur- 
prise. The horse that I saddled that day was 
Buckskin Joe. 

As I galloped for the herd, I saw the Indians 
kill two of the herders. Then, circling all the 
horses toward the west, they disappeared over a 
range of hills. I hurried back to the camp and 
told the general that I knew where to pick up the 
trail. Company I, commanded by a little red- 
headed chap — Lieutenant Earl D. Thomas — was 
the first to report, mounted, at the adjutant's 
office. Thomas had but lately graduated from 
West Point. 

His sole instructions were: ** Follow Cody and 
be off quick." As he rode away General Emory 
called after him: ''I will support you with more 
troops as fast as they are saddled." 

198 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOBY 199 

The lieutenant followed me on the run to the 
spot where I saw the Indians disappear. Though 
the redskins had an hour and a half start on us, 
we followed them, on a gallop, till we could see 
that they had begun to drive their horses in a 
circle, and then in one direction after another, 
making the trail uncertain. It was getting dark, 
but I succeeded in keeping on some of the 
tracks. 

All that night the Indians endeavored, by scat- 
tering their horses, to throw us off the trail. At 
three o'clock in the morning I made up my mind 
that they were traveling for the headwaters of 
Medicine Creek, and headed straight in that direc- 
tion. 

We found that they had reached the creek, 
but remained there only long enough to water 
their horses. Then they struck off to the south- 
west. I informed Lieutenant Thomas that the 
next water was at the Springs at the head of 
Bed Willow Creek, thirty-five miles away. The 
Indians, I said, would stop there. 

Thomas's men had not had time to bring so 
much as their coats with them. At the alarm 
they grabbed their sidearms and carbines and 
ammunition belts, and leaped into their saddles. 
None of us had had anything to eat since dinner 
the day before. In the whole outfit there was 
not a canteen in which to carry water. 

I notified Thomas that he must decide whether 
the troop was to undergo the terrible hardship 
of riding a whole day without food or water, on 



200 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

the chance of overtaking the Indians and getting 
their rations and supplies away from them. He 
replied that the only instructions he had received 
from General Emory were to follow me. I said 
that if it were left to me, I would follow the In- 
dians. 

"You have heard Cody," said Thomas to his 
men. *'Now, I would like to hear what you men 
think about it." 

Through their first sergeant they said they had 
followed Cody on many a long trail, and were 
willing to follow him to the end of this one. So 
the order to mount was given, and the trail was 
taken up. Several times that day we found the 
Indians had resorted to their old tactics of go- 
ing in different directions. They split the herd 
of horses in bunches, and scattered them. It was 
very hard to trail them at good speed. 

Forty hours without food, and twelve hours 
without water, we halted for a council when dark- 
ness set in. 

I told Thomas that when we got within three 
miles of the Springs the men could rest their 
horses and get a little sleep, while I pushed on 
ahead to look for the Indians. This was done. 
[When we reached the spot I had designated the 
saddles were removed, so that the horses could 
graze and roll. I rode on ahead. 

As I had suspected I should, I found the In- 
dians encamped at the Springs "with the stock 
grazing around them. As quickly as possible I 
got back to the command with my news. The 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 201 

iiorses were quietly saddled and we proceeded, 
seldom speaking or making any noise. 

As we rode along I gave the lieutenant and first 
sergeant the description of the camp and sug- 
gested that it could be best approached just at 
daylight. We had but forty-one men. Ten of 
these, I said, should be detailed to take charge 
of the herd, while the lieutenant and I charged 
the camp. 

The Lidians were encamped on a little knoll, 
around which was miry ground, making a cavalry 
charge difficult. The Indians numbered as many 
as we did. The safest plan was to dismount some 
of the men, leaving others to hold the horses, and 
proceed to the attack on foot. The rest of the 
men were to remain with their horses, and get 
through the marshy ground mounted, if they 
could. 

A halt was called, and this was explained to 
the men. It didn't take them long to understand. 
We approached very cautiously till we got within 
a quarter of a mile of the Indians. Then the 
charge was sounded. We did not find the land 
as miry as we had supposed. Dashing in among 
the Indians, we completely surprised them. Most 
of them grabbed the guns, with which they al- 
ways slept, and fled to the marsh below the camp. 
Others ran for their horses. It was fortunate 
that we had dismounted ten men. These were 
able to follow the Indians who had escaped to 
the marsh. 

When we made the charge my chief thought 



202 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

was to keep a lookout for my pony, Powder Face. 
Soon I saw an Indian, mounted on liim, making 
his escape. I rushed through the camp, shoot- 
ing to the left and right, but keeping a beeline 
after Powder Face and his rider. Soon another 
Indian who was afoot leaped up behind Powder 
Face's rider. I knew that the little animal waa 
very swift for a short distance, but that he would 
be badly handicapped by the weight of two men. 

I realized that my old Buckskin Joe was tired, 
but his staying qualities were such that I was 
sure he would overtake Powder Face, carrying 
double weight. 

Though I was not a hundred yards behind the 
object of my pursuit when the second Indian 
mounted I was afraid to shoot. It was not yet 
quite daylight. I feared to fire lest I hit my be- 
loved pony. For two miles I followed through 
the sandhills before I dared to use my rifle. 

The Indian riding at the rear had a revolver 
with which he kept banging away, but I paid little 
attention to him. I knew a man shooting behind 
with a pistol was likely to hit nothing but air. 
At last I took a steady aim while old Joe was 
running smoothly. The bullet not only hit the 
rear man, but passed through him and killed the 
man in front. 

They both fell. I took another shot to make 
sure they were not playing 'possum. As they 
fell. Powder Face stopped and looked around, to 
learn what it was all about. I called to him, and 
he came up to me. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 203 

Both Indians were wearing beautiful war-bon- 
nets, of which. I took possession, as well as of 
their fancy trappings. Then, taking Powder 
Face by the rope, I led him back to the 
Springs to see how the lieutenant had made 
out. 

The herd of horses was held and surrounded by 
a few soldiers. The rest were still popping at the 
Indians. But most of the redskins were either 
hidden among the marshes, or had got clear away 
to the surrounding hills. 

I found the lieutenant, and told him I thought 
we had accomplished all that was possible. The 
orderly sounded the recall. I have never seen a 
muddier set of boys than those who came out of 
the marsh and began rummaging around the In- 
dian camp. We soon discovered two or three 
hundred pounds of dried meat — buffalo, deer, and 
antelope, also a little coffee and sugar and an 
old kettle and tin cups which the Indians had 
used. 

All the men by this time had all the water they 
wanted. Each was chewing a piece of dried meat. 
Pickets were posted to prevent a surprise. Soon 
coffee was ready. In a short time everybody was 
filled up, and I told Thomas we had better be 
getting out of there. 

Many of the men began saddling the stolen 
horses, so as to rest their o"v^m. The lieutenant 
was eager to remain and rest until the reenforce- 
ments that General Emory had promised should 
arrive. 



204 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

*' Your orders were to follow me, weren't they!" 
I asked. 

*'Yes." 

''Well, then, keep on following me, and you'll 
soon see the reason for getting out of here." 

**A11 right," he agreed. ''I've heard the gen- 
eral say that in a tight place your directions 
should always be followed. ' ' 

With most of the men driving the captured 
horses we started for Fort McPherson. I didn't 
take the trail that we had followed in. I knew 
of a shorter route, and besides, I didn't want 
to meet the support that was coming. I knew the 
officer in command, and was sure that if he came 
up he would take all. the glory of the capture 
away from Lieutenant Thomas. Naturally I 
wanted all the credit for Thomas and myself as 
we were entitled to. 

The soldiers that had been sent out after us 
found and destroyed the village, but we did not 
meet them. They discovered seven or eight dead 
Indians, and there were a few more down in the 
marsh which they overlooked. The major in com- 
mand sent out scouts to find our trail. Texas 
Jack, who was on this duty, returned and re- 
ported that he had found it, and that we were 
going back to the fort by another route. 

The major said: "That's another of those 
tricks of Cody^s. He will guide Thomas back and 
he will get all the glory before I can overtake 
him." 

We rode into Fort McPherson about six o'clock 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOITY 205 

that evening. I told Thomas to make his report 
immediately, which he did. General Emory com- 
plimented him highly, and Thomas generously 
said that all he did was to obey orders and follow 
Cody. A report was made to General Sheridan, 
and the next day that officer wired Thomas his 
congratulations. 

The next day the command that was sent out 
after us returned to the fort. The major was 
hotter than a wounded coyote. He told the gen- 
eral that it was all my fault, and that he did not 
propose to be treated in any such manner by any 
scout, even if it were General Sheridan's pet, Buf- 
falo Bill. He was told by the general that the 
less he said about the matter the better it would 
be for him. This was Lieutenant Thomas's first 
raid, and he was highly elated with its success. 
He hoped he would be mentioned for it in Special 
Orders, and sure enough, when the Special Or- 
ders came along both he and myself, together 
with the little command, received complimentary 
mention. This Thomas richly deserved, for he was 
a brave, energetic, and dashing officer. I gave 
him the two war-bonnets I had taken from the 
Indians I shot from the back of Powder Face, 
asking that he present them to the daughters of 
General Augur, who were then visiting the Post. 

Shortly after our return another expedition 
was organized, with the Eepubhcan River coun- 
try as its destination. It was commanded by Gen- 
eral Duncan, a blusterer, but a jolly old fellow. 
The officers who knew him weU said we would 



206 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOKY 

have a fine time, as he was very fond of hunting. 
He was a good fighter. It was rumored that an 
Indian's bullet could never hurt him. A cannon- 
ball, according to report, had hit him in the head 
without injuring him at all, while another can- 
non-ball, glancing off his skull, had instantly 
killed one of the toughest mules in the army ! 

The Pawnee scouts, who had been mustered 
out of service during the winter of 1869 and '70, 
were reorganized to accompany this expedition. 
I was glad of this. I had become very much 
attached to Major North, one of the officers, and 
to many of the Indians. Beside myself the only 
white scout we had in the Post at this time was 
John Y. Nelson, whose Indian name was Cha-Sha- 
Cha-Opeyse, or Eed-Willow-Fill-the-Pipe. The 
man was a character. He had a squaw wife and a 
half-breed family. He was a good fellow, but had 
few equals and no superiors as a liar. 

With the regimental band playing "The Girl 
I Left Behind Me" we started out from the Post. 
A short march brought us to the head of Fox 
Creek, where we camped. Next morning General 
Duncan sent me word that I was to bring my rifle 
and shoot at a mark with him. I did not feel 
like shooting at anything except myself, for the 
night before I had been interviewing the sutler's 
store, in company with Major Brown. When I 
looked for my gun, I found that I had left it be- 
hind me. I got cold consolation from Major 
Brown when I informed him of my loss. Then 
I told him that the general had sent for me to 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 207 

shoot a match with him, and that ii the old man 
discovered my predicament there would be trouble. 

**Well, Cody," said the major, *'the best thing 
you can do is to make some excuse, and then go 
and borrow a gun from one of the men. Tell the 
general you loaned your rifle to someone for a 
hunt. "While you are gone I will send back to the 
Post for it." 

I got a gun from John Nelson, and marched to 
the general's headquarters, where I shot the 
match. It resulted in his favor. 

General Duncan, who had never before com- 
manded the Pawnee Scouts, confused them by 
posting the guards in a manner that was new to 
them. Furthermore, he insisted that the guards 
should call the hours through the night: "Nine 
o'clock and all is well," etc., giving the numbers 
of their posts. Few of the scouts understood 
English. They were greatly troubled. 

Major North explained to them that when the 
man on the post nearest them called the hour, 
they must repeat the call as closely as they could. 
It was highly amusing to hear them do this. They 
would try to remember what the man on the next 
post had said. For example, when a white soldier 
called out ''Post Number One, Half -past Nine 
and all is well ! ' ' the Indians would cry out ' ' Poss 
Number half -pass five cents go to h — 1 I don't 
care." So ridiculous were their efforts to repeat 
the calls, that the general finally gave it up and 
countermanded the order. 

One day, after an uneventful march, Major 



208 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

North and I went out on Prairie Dog Creek in 
advance of the command to kill some buffaloes. 
Night was approaching, and we looked about for 
a suitable camping-place for the soldiers. Major 
North dismounted and was resting, while I rode 
down to the creek to see if there was plenty of 
grass in the vicinity. 

I found an excellent camping spot, and told 
North I would ride over the hill a little way, so 
that the advance guard might see me. This I 
did, and when the advance guard came in sight 
I dismounted and lay down upon the grass to 
rest. 

Suddenly I heard three or four shots. In a 
moment Major North came dashing toward me, 
pursued by eight or ten Indians. I at once sprang 
to the saddle and sent several shots toward the 
Indians, fifty or more of whom were now in sight- 
Then we turned our horses and ran. 

The buUets sang after us. My whip was shot 
from my hand, and the daylight was let through 
the crown of my hat. We were in close quarters, 
when Lieutenant Valknar, with several men, came 
galloping to our relief. The Indians, discovering 
them, whirled and fled. 

As soon as Major North sighted his Pawnees 
he began riding in a circle, which was the signal 
to them that there were hostile Indians in front. 
In an instant they broke ranks pell-meU, with 
the major at their head, and went after the 
flying warriors. 

The second day that we had been following the 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 209 

Indians we came npon an old squaw who had 
been left on the prairie to die. Her people had 
built for her a little shade or lodge, and had 
given her some provisions — enough to last her 
trip to the Happy Hunting-Grounds. This is 
often done by the Indians when an enemy is in 
pursuit and one of their number becomes too 
feeble to keep pace with the flight. 

Our scout, John Nelson, recognized the squaw 
as a relative of his Indian wife. From her we 
learned that the redskins we were pursuing were 
known as the Pawnee Killer band. They had 
lately killed Buck's surveying party, consisting 
of eight or nine men. This massacre had occurred 
a few' davs before on Beaver Creek. We had 
found a number of surveying instruments in the 
abandoned camp, and knew therefore that the 
Indians had had a fight with white men. After 
driving the Indians across the Platte we returned 
to Fort McPherson, bringing with us the old 
squaw, who was sent to the Spotted Tail Agency. 

During my absence my wife had given birth 
to a son. Though he was several weeks old when 
I returned no name had been given him. I called 
him Elmo Judson, in honor of Colonel Judson, 
whose pen name was "Ned Buntline." But the 
officers insisted upon calling him Kit Carson Cody 
and it was finally settled that this should be his 
name. 

Shortly after my return I received orders in- 
structing me to accompany Professor Marsh on 
a fossil-hunting expedition into the rough lands 



210 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

of the Big Horn Basin. The party was to con- 
sist of a number of scientists besides Professor 
Marsh, together with twenty-five students from 
Yale, which institution was sending out the ex- 
pedition. 

I was to get together thirty-five saddle-horses 
for the party. The quartermaster arranged for 
the transportation, pack mules, etc. But General 
Sheridan, under whose direction the scientists 
were proceeding, always believed in my ability to 
select good horses from a quartermaster's herd. 

In a few days Professor Marsh and his com- 
panions arrived. The Pawnee Scouts, then in 
camp, had a year before unearthed some immense 
fossil bones, so it was decided that Major North, 
with a few of these scouts, should also accom- 
pany the expedition. Professor Marsh had heard 
' of this discovery, and was eager to find some of 
the same kind of fossils. 

Professor Marsh believed that the Basin would 
be among the last of the Western lands to be 
settled. The mountain wall which surrounded it 
would turn aside pioneers going to Montana or 
northern Oregon. These would head to the east 
of Big Horn Mountains, while those bound for 
Utah, Idaho, and California would go to the south 
side of the Wind River Mountains. He was con- 
fident, however, that some day the Basin would 
be settled and developed, and that in its fertile 
valleys would be found the most prosperous peo- 
ple in the world. It was there that my interest 
in the great possibilities of the West was aroused. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 211 

I never forgot what I heard around the camp- 
fire. In 1894 the Carey Irrigation Act was passed 
by Congress. A million acres of land was given 
to each of the arid States. I was the first man 
to receive a concession of two hundred thousand 
acres from the Wyoming State Land Board. 

I could not get away to the Basin till late in 
the autumn of 1894, so I formed a partnership 
with George T. Beck, who proceeded to Wyoming, 
w^here he was found by Professor Elwood Mead, 
then in the service of the State. There a site 
was located and the line of an irrigation canal 
was surveyed. 

A town was laid out along the canal, and my 
friends insisted upon naming it Cody. At this 
time there was no railroad in the Big Horn Basin ; 
but shortly afterward the Burlington sent a spur 
out from its main line, with Cody as its terminus. 
In 1896 I went out on a scout to locate the route 
of a wagon road from Cody into the Yellowstone 
Park. This was during Mr. McKinley's first ad- 
ministration. 

I went to Washington, saw the President, and 
explained to him the possibilities of a road of 
eighty miles, the only one entering the National 
Park from the East. It would be, I told him, the 
most wonderful scenic road in the West. Mr. 
Roosevelt ordered the building of this road, which 
has now become the favorite automobile route 
into the Park. Today the Big Horn Basin is 
one of the richest of American oil lands, and the 
Pennsylvania of the West for coal production. 



212 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

Every one of the prophecies that Professor Marsh 
made to us around that campfire has come true. 

In December, 1870, I was sent as a witness to 
Fort D. A. Russell, near the city of Cheyenne, 
where a court-martial was to be held. Before 
leaving home my wife had given me a list of arti- 
cles she needed for the furnishing of our house. 
These I promised to purchase in Cheyenne. 

On arriving at Fort Russell I found many offi- 
cers, also witnesses at the court-martial, and put 
in most of my time with them. A postponement 
of a week gave us an opportunity to "do" Chey- 
enne. That town furnished abundant opportuni- 
ties for entertainment, as there was every kind 
of game in operation, from roulette to horse-rac- 
ing. I sent for my horse, Tall Bull, and a big 
race was arranged between him and a Cheyenne 
favorite called Green's Colt. But before Tall Bull 
could arrive the court-martial was over and the 
race was off. I sold the animal to Lieutenant 
Mason. I met many old friends in Cheyenne, 
among them R. S. Van Tassell, Tim Dier, Major 
Talbot, Luke Morrin, Posey Wilson, and many 
others. They constituted a pretty wild bunch, 
and kept me so busy that I had no time to think 
about Mrs. Cody's furniture. 

On my return, when she asked us for it, I told 
her I couldn't bring it with me on the train, and 
that moreover there were no stores in Cheyenne 
where I could get furniture that would be good 
enough for her, so I had sent to Dewey & Stone 
at Omaha for what she needed. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 213 

I lost no time in getting over to the club, 
where I wrote to Dewey & Stone for all the 
articles my wife required. In a week the fur- 
niture arrived at Fort McPherson station. I 
got a couple of six-mule teams and went 
after it quick. When it arrived at the house 
and was unpacked Mrs. Cody was greatly de- 
lighted. 

About this time General Emory was very much 
annoyed by petty o:ffenses in the vicinity of the 
Post by civilians over whom he had no jurisdic- 
tion. There was no justice of the peace near the 
Post, and he wanted some kind of an officer with 
authority to attend to these troublesome persons. 
One day he told me that I would make an excellent 
justice. 

"You compliment me too highly, General,'* I 
replied. *'I don't know any more about law than 
a Government mule knows about bookkeeping. 
* ' That doesn 't make any difference, ' ' he said. * ' I 
know you will make a good squire. You accom- 
pany Mr. Woodin and Mr. Snell to North Platte 
in my private ambulance. They will go on your 
bond, and you will be appointed a justice of the 
peace." 

A number of officers from the Post went to 
North Platte for this occasion. After I was duly 
sworn in, there was a celebration. I arrived home 
at three o'clock in the morning, Mrs. Cody still 
being in ignorance of my newly acquired honor. 
I was awakened by hearing her arguing with a 
man at the door who was asking for the squire. 



214 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

She was assuring Mm that no squire was on the 
premises. 

'* Doesn't Buffalo Bill live here?" asked the 
man. 

"Yes," admitted Mrs. Cody, ''but what has that 
got to do with it?" 

By this time I had dressed, and I went to the 
door. I informed my wife, to her amazement, 
that I was really a squire, and turned to the vis- 
itor to learn his business. 

He was a poor man, he said, on his way to Colo- 
rado. The night before a large bunch of horses 
was being driven past his camp, and one of his 
two animals was driven off with the herd. Mount- 
ing the other, he followed and demanded the horse, 
but the boss of the herd refused to give it up. 
He wanted a writ of replevin. 

I asked Mrs. Cody if she could write a writ of 
replevin and she said she had never heard of 
such a thing. I hadn't either. 

I asked the man in, and Mrs. Cody got breakfast 
for us. He refused the drink I set out for him. 
I felt that I needed a good deal of bracing in 
this writ of replevin business, so I drank his as 
well as mine. 

Then I buckled on my revolver, took down 
my old Lucretia rifle, and, patting her gently, 
said: "You will have to be constable for me 
today." 

To my wife and children, who were anxiously 
watching these proceedings, I said: 

"Don't be alarmed. I am a judge now, and 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 215 

I am going into action. Come on, my friend," I 
said to the stranger, ''get on your horse." 

''Why," he protested, "you have no papers to 
serve on the man, and you have no constable." 

"Don't worry," I said. "I'll soon show you 
that I am the whole court." 

I mounted Joe, and we galloped along about 
ten miles when we overtook the herd of horses. 
I found the boss, riding a big gray horse ahead 
of the herd. I ordered him to round up the herd. 

"By what authority?" he demanded. "Are 
you a constable?" 

I said I was not only a constable, but the whole 
court, and one of his men at the same time whis- 
pered to him: "Be careful, that is Buffalo Bill!" 
At this time, as well as for years past, I had been 
chief United States detective for the army as well 
as scout and guide. I felt that with the offices 
of justice and constable added to these titles I 
had all the power necessary to take one horse. 

The herd boss evidently thought so, too. After 
asking if my name were Cody, and being told that 
it was, he said : 

"Well, there is no need of having a fuss over 
one horse." 

"No," said I, "a horse doesn't mean much to 
you, but it amounts to a good deal to this poor 
immigrant." 

"Well," said the herd boss, "how do you pro- 
pose to settle it?" 

"I am going to take you and your whole outfit 
to Fort McPherson. There I am going to try 



216 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY ' 

you and give you the limit — six months and a 
five-hundred-dollar fine." 

**I can't afford to go back to the Fort," he 
pleaded, "let's settle it right here. What will 
you take to call it off?" 

"One hundred and fifty dollars," I said, "and 
quick ! ' ' 

Eeaching down into his pocket, he pulled out 
a wallet filled with bills and counted out a hun- 
dred and fifty dollars. By this time the man 
who had lost the horse had caught his animal in 
the herd. He was standing, holding it, near by. 

"Partner," I said to him, "take your horse 
and go back home." 

"Now, boss," I said to the other man, "let 
me give you a little advice. Be careful when a 
stranger gets into your herd and the owner over- 
takes you and demands it. You may run into 
more trouble than I have given you, for you ought 
to know by this time that horse-stealing is a hang- 
ing offense." 

He said: "I didn't care a blank about your be- 
ing justice of the peace and constable combined, 
but when I found out you were Buffalo Bill it 
was time to lay down my hand. ' ' 

"All right, old fellow," I said, "good-by." 

As he rode off he called: "It was worth a hun- 
dred and fifty dollars just to get a good look at 
you," and the other men agreed. 

By the time I got back to the fort, guard-mount 
was over, and a number of officers were in the 
club. When they learned how I had disposed of 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 217 

my first case, they told the general, who was very 
much pleased. 

*'I want it noised about among the outside 
civilians how you handle your court," he said. 
The story soon became known all over the sur- 
rounding country. Even the ladies of the Post 
heard of it, and told my wife and sisters, to whom 
I had never mentioned it. They looked upon it 
as a great joke. 



CHAPTER Vni 

Early in the month of September, 1874, word 
was received at Fort MePherson that General 
Sheridan and a party of friends were coming to 
the Post to have a grand hunt in the vicinity. 
They further proposed to explore the country 
from Fort MePherson to Fort Hays in Kansas. 
They arrived in a special car at North Platte, 
eighteen miles distant, on the morning of Septem- 
ber 22. 

In the party besides General Sheridan were 
James Gordon Bennett, of The New York Herald, 
Leonard Lawrence Jerome, Carroll Livingston, 
Major J. G. Heckscher, General Fitzhugh, General 
H. E. Davies, Captain M. Edward Rogers, Colonel 
J. Schuyler Crosby, Samuel Johnson, General An- 
son Stager, of the Western Union, Charles Wil- 
son, editor of The Chicago Journal, Quartermas- 
ter-General Rucker, and Dr. Asch, of General 
Sheridan's statf. 

They were met at the station by General Emory 
and Major Brown, with a cavalry company as 
escort and a sufficient number of vehicles to carry 
the distinguished visitors and their baggage. 

At the Fort they found the garrison, under the 
command of General Carr, on parade awaiting 
their arrival. 

A train of sixteen wagons was provided to 

218 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 219 

carry the baggage supplies and forage for the 
hunting trip. Besides these there were three or 
four horse-ambulances in which the guns were 
carried, and in which members of the party might 
ride when they became weary of the saddle. I 
accompanied the expedition at the request of Gen- 
eral Sheridan. He introduced me to everybody 
and gave me a good send-off. As it was a high- 
toned outfit I was to accompany, I determined 
to put on a little style myself. I dressed in a new 
suit of light buckskin, trimmed along the seams 
with fringe of the same material. I put on a 
crimson shirt, elaborately decorated on the bosom, 
and selected a big sombrero for my head. Then, 
mounting a showy horse which was a gallant 
stepper, I rode down to the fort, rifle in hand. 

The expedition was soon under way. First in 
line rode General Sheridan, followed by his 
guests; then the orderlies. Then came the am- 
bulances, in one of which were carried five grey- 
hounds, brought along to course antelopes and 
rabbits. 

With the ambulance marched a pair of Lidian 
ponies belonging to Lieutenant Hayes, captured 
during an Indian fight. These were harnessed 
to a light wagon, which General Sheridan occa- 
sionally used. These little animals, thirteen hands 
high, showed more vigor and endurance than any 
we brought with us. 

During our first night in camp the members 
of the party asked me hundreds of questions 
about buffaloes and buffalo hunting. The entire 



220 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

evening was spent in talk about buffaloes, together 
with stories of the Plains, the chase, and the war, 
which was then fresh in the minds of all of us. 
"We closed the evening by christening the camp, 
Camp Brown, in honor of the gallant officer who 
was in command of the escort. 

We breakfasted at four the next morning and 
at six we were in the saddle. Everyone was 
eager to see the buffaloes which I had promised 
would be met with during the day. After a march 
of five miles the advance guard which I com- 
manded sighted six of these animals grazing about 
two miles away. 

Acting upon my suggestion, Lawrence Jerome, 
Livingston, Heckscher, Fitzhugh, Rogers, and 
Crosby, with myself as guide, rode through a 
convenient canon to a point beyond the herd, and 
to windward of them; the rest of the party made 
a detour of nearly five miles, keeping behind the 
crest of a hill. 

We charged down on the buffaloes at full gal- 
lop, and just then the other party emerged from 
their concealment and witnessed the exciting 
chase. 

The buffaloes started away in a line, single 
file; Fitzhugh, after a lively gallop, led us all. 
Soon he came alongside the rear buffalo, at which 
he fired. The animal faltered, and with another 
shot Fitzhugh brought him to the ground. Crosby 
dashed past and leveled another of the herd, while 
Livingston dropped a third. Those who were 
not directly engaged in the hunt now came up and 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 221 

congratulated the buffalo killers. Fitzhugh was 
hailed as the winner of the Buffalo Cup. There 
was general sympathy for Heckscher, whose horse 
had fallen and rolled over him, thus putting him 
out of the race. 

The hunt being over, the column moved for- 
ward through a prairie-dog town, several miles 
in extent. These animals are found throughout 
the Plains, living together in a sort of society. 
Their numberless burrows in their towns join 
each other and the greatest care is necessary in 
riding among them, since the ground is so under- 
mined as easily to give way under the weight of 
a horse. 

Around the entrance to each burrow earth is 
piled to the height of at least a foot. On these 
little elevations the prairie-dogs sit on their 
haunches, chattering to each other and observing 
whatever passes on the Plains. 

They will permit a person to approach very 
closely, but when they have viewed him they dive 
into their holes with wonderful celerity. They 
are difficult to kill. If hit they usually succeed 
in getting underground before they can be re- 
covered. 

Rattlesnakes and little owls are found in great 
numbers in the prairie-dog towns, living in the 
same burrows. We killed and cooked a few of 
the prairie-dogs, and found them very palatable. 

A short distance beyond the prairie-dog town 
we found a settlement of five white men. They 
proved to be the two Clifford brothers, Arthur 



222 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

Ruff, Dick Seymour, and John Nelson. To tlie 
last I have already referred. Each of these men 
had a squaw for a wife and numerous half-breed 
children. They lived in tents of buffalo skins. 
They owned a herd of horses and a few cattle, 
and had cultivated a small piece of land. Their 
principal occupation was hunting, and they had 
numbers of buffalo hides, which they had tanned 
in the Indian fashion. 

Upon reaching Pleasant Valley on Medicine 
Creek the party divided into two detachments, 
one hunting along the bank of the creek for elk 
and deer, the other remaining with the main body 
of the escort. 

The elk hunters met with no success whatever, 
but the others found plenty of buffaloes and nearly 
everybody killed one before the day was done. 
Lawrence Jerome made an excellent shot. He 
was riding in an ambulance, and killed a buffalo 
that attempted to cross the line of march. Upon 
crossing the Republican River on the morning 
of the twenty-sixth we came upon an immense 
number of buffaloes scattered over the country 
in every direction. All had an opportunity to 
hunt. The wagons and troops moved slowly along 
toward the next camp while the hunters rode off 
in twos and threes. Each hunter was rewarded 
with abundant success. 

Lawrence Jerome met with the only mishap. 
He was riding Buckskin Joe, which I had lent 
him, and, dismounting to get a steady shot, 
thoughtlessly let go of the bridle. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 223 

The horse decided to do a little hunting on 
his own account. When last seen that day he was 
ahead of the buffaloes, and gaining, while his late 
rider was left to his own reflections. Three days 
later Joe, saddled and bridled, turned up at Fort 
McPherson. 

We pitched our camp for the night in a charm- 
ing spot on the bank of Beaver Creek. The game 
was so abundant that we remained there the next 
day. This stopping-place was called Camp Cody, 
in honor of the reader's humble servant. The 
next day was spent in hunting jack-rabbits, 
coyotes, elk, antelope, and wild turkeys. 

That we had a splendid dinner may be seen 
from the following 

BILL OF FARE 

Soup 
Buffalo Tail 

Fish 
Broiled Cisco; Fried Dace 

Entries 
Salmi of Prairie Dog; Stewed Rabbit; Filet of Buffalo aux 

Champignons 

Vegetables 
Sweet Potatoes, Mashed Potatoes, Green Peas 

Dessert 
Tapioca Pudding 

Wines 
Champagne Frappe, Champagne au Naturel, Claret, Whisky, 

Brandy, Ale 

Coffee 

I considered this a fairly good meal for a hunt- 
ing party. Everybody did justice to it. 
The excursionists reached Fort Hays on the 



224 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

morning of October second. There we pitched our 
tents for the last time. That same afternoon Gen- 
eral Sheridan and his guests took the train for 
the East. They expressed themselves as highly 
pleased with the hunt, as well as with the way 
they had been guided and escorted. 

General Davies afterward wrote the story of 
this hunt in a volume of sixty-eight pages, called 
''Ten Days on the Plains." In this chapter I 
have taken the liberty of condensing frequently 
from this volume, and in some cases have used 
the general's exact language. I ought to insert 
several lines of quotations marks, to be pretty 
generally distributed through the foregoing ac- 
count. 

After the departure of General Sheridan's 
party we returned to Fort McPherson, and found 
General Carr about to start on a twenty days' 
scout. His object was more to take some friends 
on a hunt than to look for Indians. His guests 
were a couple of Englishmen and Mr, McCarthy 
of New York, the latter a relative of General 
Emory. The command consisted of three com- 
panies of the Fifth Cavalry, one company of 
Pa"v\Tiee Scouts, and twenty-five wagons. Of 
course I was called to accompany the expedi- 
tion. 

One day, after we had been out for some little 
time, I arranged with Major North to play a 
joke on Mr. McCarthy. I took him out on a hunt 
about eight miles from the camp, informing Major 
North about what time we should reach there. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 225 

He had agreed that lie would appear in the vicin- 
ity with his Indians, who were to throw their 
blankets around them and come dashing down 
upon us, firing and whooping in the true Indian 
style. 

This program was faithfully carried out. I had 
been talking about Indians to McCarthy, and he 
had become considerably excited, when just as 
we turned a bend in the creek we saw a band of 
them not half a mile away. They instantly started 
after us on the gallop, yelling and shooting. 

** McCarthy," said I, ''shall we run or fight?" 

He did not wait to reply. Wheeling his horse, 
he started at full speed down the creek. He lost 
his gun and dropped his hat, but never once did 
he look back to see if he were pursued. I tried 
to stop him by shouting that the Indians were 
Pawnees and our friends. He did not hear me, 
but kept straight on, never stopping his horse 
till he reached the camp. 

I knew he would tell General Carr that the In- 
dians had jumped him, and that the general would 
at once start out with troops. So as soon as the 
Pawnees rode up, I told them to remain there 
while I rode after my friend. 

When I had reached camp, he had given the 
alarm, and the general had ordered out two com- 
panies of cavalry to go in pursuit of the 
Indians. 

I told the general the Indians were only 
Pawnees, and that a joke had been put up on 
McCarthy. I neglected to tell him who had put 



226 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

up the joke. He was fond of a joke himself, 
and did not get very angry. I had picked up 
McCarthy's hat, which I returned to him. It 
was some time before it was discovered who was 
at the bottom of the affair. 

It was while I was stationed at Fort McPherson, 
where Brevet-Major-General W. H. Emory was 
in command, that I acted as guide for Lord Flynn, 
an English nobleman who had come over for a 
hunt on the Plains. I had been recommended to 
him by General Sheridan. 

Flynn had served in India with the British 
army. He was a fine sportsman and a splendid 
shot, and secured many heads and skins while 
he was with me. Money meant little to him. 
He insisted on paying all the bills, spending his 
money lavishly on both officers and men when 
he was at the Post. 

Once, when we ran out of liquid refreshments 
while on the hunt, we rode thirty miles to a saloon, 
only to find it closed. Lord Flynn inquired the 
price of the place, found it to be $500 and bought 
it. When we left, after having had all we needed 
to drink, he gave it — house, bar, stock, and all — 
to George Dillard, who had come along with the 
party as a sort of official bartender. 

Sir George Watts-Garland also made a hunt 
with us. He was an excellent hunter and a thor- 
ough gentleman, but he lacked the personality 
that made Lord Flynn one of the most popular 
visitors who ever came to the Post. 

Early in January, 1872, General Forsythe and 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 227 

Dr. Asch, of General Sheridan's staff, came to 
Fort McPherson to make preparations for a grand 
buffalo hunt to be conducted for the Grand Duke 
Alexis. General Sheridan was desirous of giving 
the Russian nobleman the hunt of his life. He 
wanted everything ready when the Grand Duke 
arrived, so that he need lose no time at the Post. 

By way of giving their distinguished guest a 
real taste of the Plains, the two officers asked 
me to visit the camp of the Sioux chief, Spotted 
Tail, and ask him to bring a hundred of his 
warriors to the spot on Red Willow Creek, which, 
at my suggestion, had been selected as the Grand 
Duke's camp. 

Spotted Tail had permission from the Govern- 
ment to hunt buffalo, a privilege that could not 
be granted to Indians indiscriminately, as it in- 
volved the right to carry and use firearms. You 
couldn't always be sure just what kind of game 
an Indian might select when you gave him a rifle. 
It might be buffalo, or it might be a white man. 
But Spotted Tail was safe and sane. Hence the 
trust that was reposed in him. 

Forsythe and Asch, after accompanying me to 
the site I had found for the camp, returned to 
the Post, while I set out to confer with Mr. Spotted 
Tail. The weather was very cold, and the jour- 
ney was by no means a delightful one. I was 
obliged to camp out with only my saddle-blankets 
to protect me from the weather, and only my 
vigilance to protect me from the Indians. Spotted 
Tail himself was friendly, but some of his young 



228 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

men were decidedly hostile. My activities as a 
scout had made me many enemies among the 
Sioux, and it is not their nature easily to forget 
old grudges. 

At the close of the first day I made camp on 
a tributary of Frenchman's Fork, and built a 
little fire. The night was bitter cold, and I was 
so busy keeping warm that I got very little sleep. 
The next afternoon I began to notice fresh horse 
tracks and the carcasses of recently killed buffa- 
loes. I knew that I was nearing an Indian camp. 
It was not policy to ride boldly in among the 
Indians, as some of them might be inclined to 
shoot me first and discover later that I was a 
friend of Spotted Tail. So I hid my horse in a 
low ravine and crawled up a hill, from whose sum- 
mit I obtained a good view of the country. 

When night fell, I rode into camp unobserved. 
As I entered the camp I wrapped my blanket, 
Indian fashion, about my head, so that the red- 
skins would not at once recognize me as a white 
man. Then I hunted about till I found Spotted 
Tail's lodge. The old chief was stretched lazily 
out on a pile of robes as I looked in. He knew 
who I was and invited me to enter. 

In the lodge I found Todd Randall, an old 
white frontiersman, who was Spotted Tail's friend 
and agent, and who had lived a great many years 
with the Indians. Randall, who spoke the Sioux 
jargon perfectly, did the interpreting, and through 
him I readily communicated to the chief the ob- 
ject of my visit. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 229 

I said that the warriors and chiefs would greatly 
please General Sheridan if they would meet him 
in about ten sleeps at the old Government cross- 
ing at the Red Willow. I said that a great chief 
from far across the water was coming to visit 
them, and that he was especially anxious to meet 
the greatest of the Indian chiefs. 

Spotted Tail replied that he would be very 
glad to go. He added that on the morrow he 
would call his men together and select from them 
those who were to accompany him. He told me 
I had acted very wisely in coming first to him, 
as it was known to him that some of his young 
men did not like me, and he knew that they had 
hasty tempers. He expressed himself as pleased 
that they had not met me outside the village, and 
I assured him that I was equally pleased that 
this was so. 

The chief then called his squaw, who got me 
something to eat, and I passed the remainder of 
the night in his lodge. Having informed the old 
man that this was no ordinary occasion, and that 
he would be expected to do the job up right, I 
returned to the Post. 

When the day set for the Grand Duke's arrival 
came there was a brave array at the station to 
meet him. Captain Hays and myself had five or 
six ambulances to carry his party. Captain Egan 
was on hand with a company of cavalry and 
twenty extra saddle-horses, and the whole popu- 
lation of the place was gathered to see the great 
man from Russia. 



230 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

The train came in, and from it stepped General 
Sheridan. A fine figure of a man was towering 
above him. This was the visitor. 

I was presented to the Grand Duke as Buffalo 
Bill, the man who would have charge of the hunt. 
I immediately ordered up the saddle-horse I had 
selected for the nobleman, also a fine horse for 
General Sheridan. Both men decided to ride 
for a few miles before they took seats in the 
ambulances. 

"When the whole party was mounted they 
started south, Texas Jack acting as guide until 
such time as I could overtake them. The Grand 
Duke was very much interested in the whole pro- 
ceeding, particularly in the Indians. It was no- 
ticed that he cast frequent and admiring glances 
at a handsome red-skinned maiden who accom- 
panied old Spotted Tail's daughter. When we 
made camp my titled guest plied me with ques- 
tions about buffaloes and how to kill them. He 
wanted to know whether a gun or a pistol was 
the proper weapon and whether I would be sure 
to supply him with a horse that was trained in 
buffalo hunting. 

I told him that I would give him Buckskin Joe, 
the best buffalo horse in the country, and that 
all he would need to do would be to mount the 
animal and fire away every time he saw a buffalo. 

At nine o 'clock in the morning we were all gal- 
loping over the prairies in search of big game. 
I waited till everyone was ready, and then led 
the party over a little knoll that hid the herd 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 231 

from view. In a few minutes we were among 
the buffaloes. 

Alexis first chose to use his pistol. He sent 
six shots in rapid succession after one bull, at 
a distance of only twenty feet, but he fired wildly, 
and did no damage whatever. I rode up to his 
side, and, his pistol having been emptied, gave 
him mine. He seized it and fired six more shots, 
but not a buffalo fell. 

I saw that he was pretty sure to come home 
empty-handed if he continued this sort of pistol 
practice. So I gave him my old ^'Lucretia" and 
told him to urge his horse close to the buffaloes, 
and not to shoot till I gave him the word. At 
the same time I gave Buckskin Joe a cut with 
my whip which sent him at a furious gallop to 
within ten feet of one of the biggest bulls in 
the herd. 

*'Now is your time," I shouted to Alexis. He 
fired, and down went the buffalo. Then, to my 
amazement, he dropped his gun, waved his hat 
in the air, and began talking to members of his 
suite in his native tongue, which I of course was 
totally unable to understand. Old Buckskin Joe 
was standing behind the horse that I was riding, 
apparently quite as much astonished as I was 
at this singular conduct of a man he had accepted 
in good faith as a buffalo hunter. 

There was no more hunting for the Grand Duke 
just then. The pride of his achievement had para- 
lyzed any further activity as a Nimrod in him. 
Presently General Sheridan came riding up, and 



232 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

the ambulances were gathered round. Soon corks 
were popping and champagne was flowing in honor 
of the Grand Duke Alexis and his first buffalo. 

Many of the newspapers which printed accounts 
of the hunt said that I had shot the buffalo for 
the Grand Duke. Others asserted that I held the 
buffalo while the Grand Duke shot him. But the 
facts are just as I have related them. 

It was evident to all of us that there could be 
little more sport for that day. At the request 
of General Sheridan I guided the Russians back 
to camp. Several of the others in the party de- 
cided to indulge in a little hunt on their own 
account, and presently we saw them galloping 
madly over the prairie in all directions, with ter- 
rified buffaloes flying before them. 

As we were crossing a stream on our way back 
to camp we ran into a small band that had been 
frightened by some of these hunters. They came 
sweeping across our path, not more than thirty 
feet away, and as they passed Alexis raised his 
pistol and fired generally into the herd. A buffalo 
cow fell. 

It was either an extraordinary shot or a 
''scratch," probably the latter. The Duke was 
as much astonished as any of us at the result, 
but we gave him three rousing cheers, and when 
the ambulance came up we had a second round 
of champagne in honor of the prowess of our 
distinguished fellow hunter. I began to hope that 
he would keep right on killing buffaloes all the 
afternoon, for it was apparent that every time 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 233 

he dropped an animal a basket of champagne was 
to be opened. And in those days on the Plains 
champagne was not a drink that could be indulged 
in very often. 

I took care of the hides and heads of the buffa- 
loes the Grand Duke had shot, as he wanted them 
all preserved as souvenirs of his hunt, which he 
was now enjoying immensely. I also cut the 
choice meat from the cow that he had killed and 
brought it into camp. At supper he had the 
pleasure of dining on buffalo meat which he him- 
self had provided. 

Eight buffaloes were killed by Alexis during 
the three days we remained in camp. He spent 
most of his time in the saddle, and soon became 
really accomplished. After he had satisfied him- 
self as to his own ability as a buifalo killer he 
expressed a desire to see how the Indians hunted 
them. He had never seen bows and arrows used 
in the pursuit of game. Spotted Tail, who had 
joined the hunt according to his promise, picked 
out some of his best hunters, and when Alexis 
joined them directed them to surround a herd. 
They were armed with bows and arrows and 
lances. 

I told the Grand Duke to follow one particularly 
skillful brave whose name was Two Lance, who 
had a reputation for being able to drive an arrow 
clear through the body of a bull. The Indian 
proved equal to his fame. He hauled alongside 
of an animal, and, bending his powerful bow, let 
fly an arrow, which passed directly through the 



234 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

bulky carcass of a galloping brute, who fell dead 
instantly. The arrow, at the Grand Duke's re- 
quest, was given to him as a souvenir which he 
doubtless often exhibited as proof of his story 
when some of his European friends proved a little 
bit skeptical of his yarns of the Western Plains. 

When the visitor had had enough of buffalo 
hunting, orders were given to return to the rail- 
road. The conveyance provided for Alexis and 
General Sheridan was an old-fashioned Irish dog- 
cart, drawn by four spirited cavalry horses. The 
driver was old Bill Keed, an overland-stage driver, 
and our wagon-master. The Grand Duke vastly 
admired the manner in which he handled the reins. 

On the way over, General Sheridan told his 
guest that I too was a stage-driver, and Alexis 
expressed a desire to see me drive. 

"Cody," called the general, "come back here 
and exchange places with Reed. The Grand Duke 
wants you to drive for a while." 

In a few minutes I had the reins, and we were 
racing across the prairie. We jogged along stead- 
ily enough, despite a pretty rapid pace, and this 
did not suit General Sheridan at all. 

"Shake 'em up a little, Bill," he told me as we 
were approaching Medicine Creek. "Show us 
some old-time stage-driving." 

I gave the horses a sounding crack with the 
whip, and they jumped into their work with a 
real interest. The load was light and their pace 
increased with every second. 

Soon they were fairly flying over the ground, 



BUFFOLA BILL'S OWN STORY 235 

and I had all I could do to maintain any control 
over them. At last we reached a steep hill, or 
divide, the further side of which sloped down 
to the creek. There was no brake on the wagon, 
and the four horses were not in the least inclined 
to hold back, appearing to be wholly unconcerned 
as to what might happen. 

It was impossible to restrain them. My work 
was cut out for me in keeping them on the track. 
So I let them set their own pace down the hill. 
The wagon bounded and rebounded from the 
bumps in the road, and my two distinguished 
passengers had to keep very busy holding their 
seats. 

However, when they saw that the horses were 
being kept in the road they assumed an appear- 
ance of enjoying themselves. I was unable to 
slacken the pace of the horses until they dashed 
into the camp where we were to obtain a relay. 
There I succeeded in checking them. 

The Grand Duke and the general said they had 
got a lot of enjoyment out of the ride, but I no- 
ticed that thereafter they were perfectly willing 
to travel at an easier pace. 

When we arrived at North Platte, the Grand 
Duke invited me into his car, and there, over a 
few bottles of champagne, we went over all the 
details of the hunt. He said the trip w^s one 
which he would never forget and professed him- 
self as wholly unable to thank me for my part 
in it. 

As I was leaving the car one of his suite ap- 



236 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

proached me, and, extending a big roll of green- 
backs, begged me to accept it as a slight token 
of the Grand Duke's appreciation of my serv- 
ices. 

I told him I could take nothing for what I had 
done. He then handed me a small jewel box, 
which I slipped into my pocket without examining, 
and asked if I would not also accept the magnifi- 
cent fur overcoat which Alexis had worn on the 
hunt. 

I had frequently admired this coat, which was 
made of many fine Eussian furs. I was glad to 
receive it as a remembrance from one of the 
most agreeable men I had ever guided on a hunt- 
ing expedition. 

After leaving us Alexis telegraphed to the most 
famous of New York jewelers and had made for 
me a wonderful set of sleeve-links and a scarf- 
pin, studded with diamonds and rubies, each piece 
in the form of a buffalo head, as large as a silver 
half-dollar. 

Reporters who accompanied the expedition tel- 
egraphed the story of this order to their New 
York newspapers. When later I arrived in New 
York, after this present had been given me, some 
of the papers said that Buffalo Bill had come 
to New York to buy a shirt on which to wear 
the jewelry given him by the Grand Duke 
Alexis. 

Shortly after this. General Ord, who had ac- 
companied the hunting party, rode over with me 
to Fort McPherson. On the way he asked me 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 237 

how I would like to have a commission in the 
regular army. General Sheridan, he said, had 
suggested that I ought to have a commission, 
and the matter could be arranged if I de- 
sired it. 

I thanked the general, and asked him to thank 
General Sheridan. But though a commission was 
a tempting prize, I preferred to remain in the 
position I was holding. He said that if at any- 
time I felt that I wanted a commission, I only 
needed to ask for it, and it would be given to 
me. 

All I looked forward to was the life of the 
Plains. It was enough for me to be in the saddle, 
trusting each day to find some new adventure. 
Army life would mean a great deal of rou- 
tine, and routine was something I could not 
endure. 

So, giving up forever any hope of wearing an 
officer 's shoulder-straps, I was about to turn back 
to the prairies to see what new opportunities for 
excitement offered, when a strange new call came 
to me. 

General J. J. Reynolds, who had just arrived 
at Fort McPherson with the Third Cavalry, called 
me into the office one day and told me that he 
had a letter, railroad tickets, and five hundred dol- 
lars for me. Furthermore he informed me that 
a thirty days' leave of absence was awaiting me 
whenever I wanted to take it. 

AU this was the doing of the *' Millionaires' 
Hunting Party," headed by James Gordon Ben- 



238 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

nett and the Jeromes, which I had guided the year 
before. 

I was, in short, invited to visit my former 
charges in New York, and provided by them 
with money and mileage, and leisure for the 
trip. 



CHAPTER IX 

Or course going to New York was a very serious 
business, and not to be undertaken lightly. The 
first thing I needed was clothes, and at my direc- 
tion the Post tailor constructed what I thought 
was the handsomest suit in the world. Then I 
proceeded to buy a necktie, so that I could wear 
the present which had come in the little box from 
the Grand Duke — a handsome scarf-pin. The 
Grand Ducal overcoat and a new Stetson, added 
to the wardrobe I already possessed, completed 
my outfit. Almost everything I had was on my 
back, but just the same I borrowed a little trunk 
of my sister, so as to impress New York with 
the fact that I had as many clothes as any visitor 
from the West. 

At the last minute I decided to take along my 
buckskin suit. Something told me that some of 
the people I had met in New York might want 
to know just how a scout looked in his business 
clothes. Mrs. Cody was much astonished because 
I did not ask for my brace of pistols, which had 
accompanied me everywhere I had gone up to 
that time. 

She had great confidence in these weapons, 
which more than once had saved my life. She 
wanted to know what in the world I would do 
without them if I met any bad men in New York. 

239 



240 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

I told her that I supposed there were policemen 
in New York whose business it was to take care 
of such people. Anyway, I was going to chance it. 

On my arrival at Omaha I was met by a num- 
ber of friends who had heard of my expected 
descent on New York. They drove me at once 
to the United States Court, where my old friend, 
Judge Dundee, was on the bench. The minute 
I entered the courtroom the judge rapped loudly 
with his gavel and said: 

''This court is adjourned while Cody is in 
town." He joined the party, and we moved on 
to the Paxton Hotel, where a banquet was ar- 
ranged in my honor. 

I left for Chicago the next day. On arriving 
there, I was met at the depot by Colonel M. V. 
Sheridan, brother of General Philip Sheridan, my 
old friend and fellow townsman. "Mike" Sheri- 
dan, with his brother, the general, was living in 
a beautiful house on Michigan Avenue. There I 
met a number of the old officers with whom I had 
served on the Plains. 

I was still wearing the wonderful overcoat that 
had been given me by the Grand Duke Alexis, and 
it was a source of continuous admiration among 
the officers, who pronounced it the most magnijS- 
cent garment of its kind in America. 

The splendor of the general's Michigan Avenue 
mansion was new to me ; never before had I seen 
such vast rooms and such wonderful furnishings. 
It was necessary to show me how the gas was 
turned on and off, and how the water flowed in 



M 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 241 

the bathroom. I moved around the place in a 
daze until "Mike," taking pity on me, escorted 
me to a barroom, where I was more at home. As 
we were partaking of a cocktail, a number of 
reporters from the Chicago papers came in. 
They had been told of my visit and plied me 
with questions. In the papers the next morning 
I found that I had had adventures that up to that 
time I had never heard of. The next evening I 
had my first adventure in high society, and it 
proved more terrifying to me than any Indian 
fight I had ever taken part in. Finding I had no 
proper raiment for a big ball, which was to be 
given in my honor, ''Mike" Sheridan took me 
to the clothing department of Marshall Field's, 
where I was fitted with an evening suit. 

The general's valet assisted me into these gar- 
ments that evening. My long brown hair still 
flowed down over my shoulders and I was de- 
termined to go to the barber's and have it sheared 
before I made a public appearance, but General 
Sheridan would not hear of this. He insisted that 
I crown my long locks with a plug hat, but here 
I was adamant. I would go to the party in my 
Stetson or I would not go to the party at all. 

The ball was held at the Eiverside Hotel, which 
was then one of the fashionable hostelries of Chi- 
cago. When I was escorted in, I was told to 
give the colored boy my hat and coat — to this I 
violently objected. I prized the coat beyond all 
my earthly possessions and intended to take no 
chances with it. I was finally persuaded that the 



242 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

boy was a responsible employee of the hotel and 
reluctantly gave him the garment. Then I suf- 
fered myself to be led into the ballroom. Here I 
, met a bevy of the most beautiful women I had 
ever seen. Fearing every minute that I would 
burst my new and tight evening clothes, I bowed 
to them all around — but very stiffly. To the gen- 
eral's request that I join in the next dance I 
entered a firm refusal. I knew no dances but 
square dances, so they got up an old-fashioned 
quadrille for me and I managed somehow to go 
through it. As soon as it was over, I hurriedly 
escorted my fair partner to her seat, then I 
quickly made my way to the barroom. The man 
behind the bar appreciated my plight. He stowed 
me away in a corner behind the icebox and in 
that corner I remained for the rest of the evening. 

Several times the general and his friends came 
down to ''moisten up," and each time I heard 
them wondering aloud what had become of me. 
"When the music stopped and the party broke up 
I emerged from my hiding-place. The next morn- 
ing I reported to the general and explained to 
him that I was going back to the sagebrush. If 
New York were like Chicago, I wanted to be ex- 
cused. But he insisted that I continue my trip. 

At eleven o'clock the next morning he thrust 
me into a Pullman car, which was in charge of 
Mr. Angel, an official of the Pullman Car Com- 
pany, and was taking a private party to the East. 

Two of my millionaire hunting companions, 
J. B. Heckscher and Colonel Schuyler Crosby, 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 243 

met me at the station and drove me to the Union 
Club. That night I was told to put on my evening 
clothes and accompany them to a theater. Heck- 
scher was very much disturbed when he saw the 
Chicago clawhammer that had been purchased 
for me. 

*'It will do for tonight," he said, *'but tomor- 
row I'll send you to my tailor and have him make 
you some clothes fit for a gentleman to wear." 

We saw Edwin Booth in a Shakespearean play. 
I was told that all my wealthy hunting friends 
would join me at breakfast the next morning. 
I was up at seven o'clock and waiting for them. 
The hours dragged slowly by and no guests ar- 
rived. I was nearly famished, but did not dare 
eat until the company should be assembled. 
About eleven o'clock, when I was practically 
starved, Mr. Heckscher turned up. I asked him 
what time they usually had breakfast in New 
York and he said about half -past twelve or any 
time therafter up to three. 

At one, the gentlemen all made their appear- 
ance and were somewhat astonished at the amount 
of breakfast I stowed away, until they were told 
that I had been fasting since seven o'clock that 
morning. 

During my visit to New York, I was taken 
by Mr. James Gordon Bennett to Niblo's Garden, 
where I saw *'The Black Crook." We witnessed 
the performance from a private box and my breath 
was fairly taken away when the curtain went up 
on the fifth act. Needless to say, that was the 



244 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

first time I had ever witnessed a musical show, 
and I thought it the most wonderful spectacle 
I had ever gazed upon. 

The remainder of my visit in New York was 
spent in a series of dinners and theater parties. 
I was entertained in the house of each gentleman 
who had been with me on the hunt. I had the 
time of my life. 

After I had had about all the high life I could 
stand for the time being I set out for Westches- 
ter, Pa., to find the only relative I knew in the 
East. My mother was born in Germantown. Her 
sister had married one Henry R. Guss, of West- 
chester. 

I found on reaching Westchester that my rela- 
tive was one of its most important citizens, having 
the Civil War title of general. I found his home 
with no trouble, and he was very delighted to see 
me. An old lady, who was a member of his house- 
hold, he introduced to me as my grandmother. 
His first wife, my Aunt Eliza, was dead, and he 
had married a second time. He also introduced me 
to his son. Captain George Guss, who had been 
in the army with him during the Civil War. 

It was not until we had talked of old family 
connections for an hour or more that they dis- 
covered that I was Buffalo Bill ; then they simply 
flooded me with questions. 

To make sure that I would return for a second 
visit, the young people of the family accompanied 
me back to New York. I was due for a dinner 
that evening, so I gave them a card to Mr. Palmer, 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 245 

of Niblo 's Garden, and they all went to see ' ' The 
Black Crook." 

When I reached the club I was given a tele- 
gram from General Sheridan telling me to hasten 
to Chicago. He wanted me to hurry on to Fort 
McPherson and guide the Third Cavalry, under 
General Reynolds, on a military expedition. The 
Lidians had been committing serious devastations 
and it was necessary to suppress them summarily. 
At the dinner, which was given by Mr. Bennett, 
I told my New York friends that I would have 
to leave for the West the next day. When the 
party broke up I went directly to the Albemarle 
Hotel and told my cousins that we would have 
to start early the next morning for Westchester. 
There I would remain twenty-four hours. 

When we reached Westchester, my uncle in- 
formed me that they had arranged a fox hunt 
for the next morning, and that all the people in 
the town and vicinity would be present. They 
wanted to see a real scout and plainsman in the 
saddle. 

Early next morning many ladies and gentle- 
men, splendidly mounted, appeared in front of my 
uncle's residence. At that time Westchester pos- 
sessed the best pack of fox hounds in America. 
Captain Trainer, master of the hounds, provided 
me with a spirited horse which had on a little 
sheepskin saddle of a kind on which I had never 
ridden. I was familiar neither with the horse, 
the saddle, the hounds, nor fox-hunting, and was 
extremely nervous. I would have backed out if 



246 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

I could, but I couldn't, so I mounted the horse 
and we all started on the chase. 

We galloped easily along for perhaps a mile, 
and I was beginning to think fox-hunting a very- 
tame sport indeed when suddenly the hounds 
started off on a trail, all barking at once. The 
master of the hounds and several of the other 
riders struck off across country on the trail, tak- 
ing fences and stone walls at full gallop. 

I noticed that my uncle and several elderly 
gentlemen stuck to the road and kept at a more 
moderate gait. The eyes of the spectators were 
all on me. I don't know what they expected me 
to do, but at any rate they were disappointed. To 
their manifest disgust I stayed with the people 
on the road. 

Shortly we came to a tavern and I went in and 
nerved myself with a stiff drink, also I had a 
bottle filled with liquid courage, which I took 
along with me. Just by way of making a second 
fiasco impossible I took three more drinks while 
I was in the bar, then I galloped away and soon 
overtook the hunters. 

The first trail of the hounds had proved false. 
Two miles further on they struck a true trail 
and away they went at full cry. I had now got 
used to the saddle and the gait of my horse. I 
also had prepared myself in the tavern for any 
course of action that might offer. 

The M. F. H. began taking stone walls and 
hedges and I took every one that he did. Across 
the country we went and nothing stopped or 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 247 

daunted me until the quarry was brought to earth. 
I was in at the death and was given the honor 
of keeping the brush. 

At two 'clock that afternoon I took my depar- 
ture for the West. Mr. Frank Thompson, of the 
Pennsylvania Railroad, who had ridden my fa- 
mous buffalo horse, Buckskin Joe, on the great 
hunt, sent me to Chicago in his own private car. 

At the station in Chicago I was met with orders 
from General Sheridan to continue straight ahead 
to Fort McPherson as quickly as possible. The 
expedition was waiting for me. 

At Omaha a party of my friends took me off 
the train and entertained me until the departure 
of the next train. They had heard of my evening 
clothes and insisted on my arraying myself 
therein for their benefit. My trunk was taken to 
the Paxton Hotel and I put on the clawhammer 
and all that went with it. About fifty of my 
Omaha friends accompanied me to the train; in 
my silk hat and evening dress I was an imposing 
spectacle. But I expected to change into my 
Plains clothes as soon as I got into the car. How- 
ever, these plans were sadly upset. Both my 
friends and I had forgotten my trunk, which in 
the hour of my greatest need was still reposing 
in a room in the Paxton Hotel, while in clothes 
fit only for a banquet I was speeding over the 
Plains to a possible Indian fight. 

At Fort McPherson, my old friend, "Buffalo 
Chips," was waiting for me. He had been left 
behind by General Reynolds to tell me to overtake 



248 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

the command as soon as possible. He had brought 
out old Buckskin Joe for me to ride. 

The expedition was already well on its way 
north into the Loup country and had camped at 
Pawnee Springs, about eight miles from McPher- 
son Station, the night before. 

Poor old Buffalo Chips almost fell dead when 
he saw how I was dressed. The hat especially 
filled him with amazement and rage, but there was 
nothing else to do. I had to go as I was or go 
not at all. 

The champagne with which my Omaha friends 
had filled my stateroom I gave to the boys at the 
station. I did not have to urge them to accept 
it. They laughed a good deal at my stovepipe 
hat and evening dress, but because of the cham- 
pagne they let me off without as much guying as 
I would otherwise have received. 

Jumping on our horses, we struck out on the 
trail of the soldiers. It was about one o'clock 
when we overtook them. As we neared the rear 
guard, I pulled off my overcoat and strapped it 
behind my saddle. I also put my hair up under 
my stovepipe hat and galloped past the command, 
to all appearances fresh from a New York ball- 
room. 

''Look at the dude! Look at the dude!" they 
shouted as I rode among them. Pajdng no atten- 
tion to them, I galloped up and overtook General 
Reynolds. Saluting him, I said; 

''General, I have come to report for duty." 

"Who in thunder are you?" he demanded, look- 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 249 

ing at me without a sign of recognition in his eye. 

''Why, general," I said, ''I am to be your 
guide on this expedition." 

He looked at me a second time, and a grin 
spread over his face. 

*'Can it be possible that you are Cody?" hQ 
asked. I told him that I was Cody. 

"Let down your hair," he commanded. I took 
off my hat, and my hair fell over my shoulders. 
A loud yell went up from both officers and en- 
listed men, as the word went up and down the 
line that the dude they had been bedeviling was 
none other than Buffalo Bill. 

Texas Jack and the scouts who were ahead had 
heard the noise and came galloping back. 

** Welcome back, old chief!" shouted Jack, and 
the scouts gathered around me, shaking my hand 
and congratulating me on my safe return from 
the dangers and the perils of the East. 

The general asked me how far it was to the 
Loup Fork. I said it was about eight miles and 
offered to proceed there ahead of the command 
and select a good sheltered camp. This I did. 
The adjutant accompanying the detachment helped 
me and laid out the camping spot, and when the 
command pulled in they disposed themselves for 
the night in a beautiful grove of timber where 
there was plenty of firewood and good grass for 
the horses and mules. Soon the tents were up 
and big fires were crackling all around. 

I accepted with thanks General Reynolds's in- 
vitation to mess with him on the trip. After 



250 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

dinner, before a big log fire, wbicb was being 
built in front of the general's tent, the officers 
came up to meet me. Among those to whom I 
was introduced were Colonel Anthony Mills, Ma- 
jor Curtiss, Major Alexander Moore, Captain 
Jerry Russell, Lieutenant Charles Thompson, 
Quartermaster Lieutenant Johnson, Adjutant 
Captain Minehold, and Lieutenant Lawson. After 
this reception, I went down to visit the scouts 
in camp. There the boys dug me up all kinds 
of clothes, and clothes of the Western kind I 
very sadly needed. 

White had brought along an old buckskin suit. 
When I had got this on and an old Stetson on 
my head, and had my favorite pair of guns 
strapped to me and my dear old ''Lucretia Bor- 
gia" was within reach, I felt that Buffalo Bill was 

himself again. 

The general informed me that evening that In- 
dians had been reported on the Dismal River. 
At breakfast the next morning he said that a 
large war party had been committing devasta- 
tions up and down the flat. His scouts had dis- 
covered their trail going north and had informed 
him that they would probably make camp on the 
Dismal. There they were sure to be joined by 
other Indians. He asked my opinion as to what 
had best be done. 

I told him it was about twenty-five miles from 
the present tent to the Dismal River. I said I 
had better go on, taking White with me, and try 
to locate them. 



1 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 251 

''I've heard of this man White," said the gen- 
eral. ' ' They teU me that he is your shadow and 
he follows you every place you go." I said that 
this was true and that I had all I could do to 
keep him from following me to New York. "It 
would break his heart," I said, '4f I were to leave 
him behind now." I added that Texas Jack knew 
the country thoroughly and that he could guide 
the command to a point on the Dismal River where 
I could meet them that night. The general said : 

*'I have been fighting the Apaches in Arizona, 
but I find these Sioux are an entirely different 
crowd. I know little about them and I will fol- 
low your suggestions. You start now and I will 
have the command following you in an hour and 
a half." 

I told White to get our horses at once and also 
to tell Texas Jack to report to me. When the 
latter reported I told him the general wanted him 
to guide the command to the course of the Dismal. 
When he got there, if he didn't hear from me 
in the meantime, he was to select a good camp. 

White and I set out, riding carefully and look- 
ing for the trail. We had traveled about ten 
miles when I found it. The Indians were headed 
toward the Dismal. Presently another trail joined 
the first one, and then we had to begin extremely 
careful scouting. 

I didn't follow the Indian trail, but bordered 
the left and struck the river about five miles 
above the Fork. There we turned down-stream. 
Soon on the opposite side we saw a party of In- 



252 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOKY 

dians surrounding a herd of elk. I didn't ap- 
proach them closely, neither did I follow down 
the stream any further. We kept parallel with 
the course of the river, and soon stopped at the 
foot of a high sandhill. From here I knew I 
could get a view of the whole country. 

I told White to remain there until I came back, 
and, jumping off old Joe, I cautiously climbed the 
hill. . 

From behind a big soapweed — a plant some- 
times called Spanish Dagger — I got a view of 
the Dismal River, for several miles. I immedi- 
ately discovered smoke arising from a bunch of 
timber about three miles below me. Grazing 
around the timber were several hundred head of 
horses. Here I knew the Indian camp to be 
located. 

I slipped down the hill, and, running to old 
Joe, mounted, telling White at the same time that 
I had located the camp. Then we began circling 
the sandhill until we got two or three miles away, 
keeping out of sight of the Indians all the time. 
When we felt we were safe we made a straight 
sweep to meet the command. I found the scouts 
first and told Texas Jack to hold up the soldiers, 
keeping them out of sight until he heard from me. 

I went on until I met General Reynolds at the 
head of the column. He halted the troop on my 
approach ; taking him to one side, I told him what 
I had discovered. He said: 

* 'As you know the country and the location of the 
Indian camp, tell me how you would proceed." 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 253 

I suggested that he leave one company as an 
escort for the wagon-train and let them follow 
slowly. I would leave one guide to show them 
the way. Then I would take the rest of the cav- 
alry and push on as rapidly as possible to within 
a few miles of the camp. That done, I would di- 
vide the conamand, sending one portion across 
the river to the right, five miles below the Indians, 
and another one to bear left toward the village. 
Still another detachment was to be kept in readi- 
ness to move straight for the camp. This, how- 
ever, was not to be done until the flanking col- 
umn had time to get around and across the river. 

It was then two o'clock. By four o'clock the 
flanking columns would be in their proper posi- 
tions to move on and the charge could begin. I 
said I would go with the right-hand column and 
send Texas Jack with the left-hand column. I 
would leave White with the main detachment. I 
impressed on the general the necessity of keep- 
ing in the ravine of the sandhills so as to be out 
of sight of the Indians. 

I said that, notwithstanding all the caution 
that we could take, we were likely to run into a 
party of hunters, who would immediately inform 
the camp of our presence. In case of discovery, 
I said, it would be necessary to make our charge 
at once. 

General Eeynolds called his officers together 
and gave them my suggestions as their instruc- 
tions. In a very few minutes everything was 
moving. I accompanied Colonel Mills. His col- 



254 BIIPFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

umn had crossed the Dismal and was about two 
miles to the north of it when I saw a party of 
Indians chasing elk. 

I knew that sooner or later — ^probably sooner 
— these Indians would see me. I told Colonel 
Mills he had better send the scout back to Gen- 
eral Reynolds and make all haste to charge the 
village. We had no way of sending word to 
Major Curtiss, who led the other flanking column, 
and we had to trust to luck that he would hear 
the firing when it started. 

Colonel Mills kept his troops on the lowest 
ground I could pick out, but we made our way 
steadily toward the village. 

Inside of half an hour we heard firing up the 
river from where we were. Colonel Mills at 
once ordered his troops to charge. Luckily it col- 
lided with the Indians ' herd of horses, which were 
surrounded, thus depriving most of the braves of 
their mounts. 

Men were left to guard the animals, and, tak- 
ing the rest of the company, we charged the vil- 
lage, reaching it a little after the arrival of Gen- 
eral Reynolds. The attack was not as much a 
surprise as we had hoped for. Some of the In- 
dian hunters had spied the soldiers and notified 
the camp, but General Reynolds, coming from the 
south, had driven all the Indians on foot and all 
the squaws and children toward the sandhills on 
the north. Mills came pretty near finding more 
Indians than he was looking for. Their force 
largely outnumbered ours when we collided, but 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 255 

Major Curtiss came charging down from the north 
just at this instant. His arrival was such a com- 
plete surprise that the Indians gave up and be- 
gan waving the white flag. Then all firing ceased. 

On rounding them up we found that we had 
captured about two hundred and fifty warriors, 
women, and children, most of whom were from 
the Spotted Tail Agency. 

The general had the Indians instantly disarmed. 
Most of their tepees were up and they were or- 
dered to go into them and remain there. We 
placed a sufficient guard around the whole camp 
so that none could escape. On the arrival of the 
wagon-train, for which a scout had been sent, the 
command went into camp. 

Taking me aside. General Reynolds said: 

**I want you to send one of your fastest men 
back to Fort McPherson. I am sending dispatches 
to General Ord, asking for instructions." 

I selected White to make this trip, and he was 
ready for duty in five minutes. 

We were then sixty-five miles from Fort Mc- 
Pherson Station. I told White that the matter 
was urgent and that he must get to that telegraph 
office as soon as possible. At ten o'clock the next 
morning he rode into our camp with a telegram 
to General Reynolds. The general was ordered 
to disarm all the Indians and send them under 
guard of a company of cavalry to the Spotted Tail 
Agency. 

General Reynolds was very much delighted with 
the success of the expedition. On his arrival at 



256 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOKY 

the Fort he received congratulations from General 
Ord and from General Sheridan. General Sheri- 
dan asked in his telegram if Cody had gone along. 
The general wired back that Cody had gone along 
and also wrote a letter telling General Sheridan 
how he had reported in evening dress. 

Of course the papers were soon full of this raid. 
Al Sorenson of the Omaha Bee, who had seen 
my evening clothes and silk hat in Omaha, wrote 
an extremely graphic story of my arrival on the 
Plains. I soon found that the officers and men 
in the Third Cavalry knew all about the inci- 
dent. 

During the spring of 72, the Indians were 
rather quiet. We did a little scouting, however, 
just to keep watch on them. One day, in the 
fall of that year, I returned from a scouting ex- 
pedition, and as I passed the store there were a 
lot of men crowded in front of it. All of them 
saluted me with **How do you do, Honorable!" 
I rode straight to the general's private office. He 
also stood at attention and said: 

"Good morning, Honorable." 

"What does all this 'Honorable' mean, Gen- 
eral?" I demanded. He said: "Of course, you 
have been off on a scout and you have not heard, 
but while you were gone you were nominated and 
elected to represent the twenty-sixth district of 
Nebraska in the Legislature." I said: 

"That is highly complimentary, and I appre- 
ciate it, but I am no politician and I shall have 
to tender my resignation," and tender it I did. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 257 

My refusal to serve as a lawmaker was unquali- 
fied. I knew nothing about politics. I believe 
that I made a fairly good justice of the peace, 
but that was because of no familiarity with the 
written law. I merely applied the principles of 
fair-dealing to my cases and did as I would have 
been done by. The Golden Rule was the only 
statute I applied. 

I inquired how to free myself formally from 
the new honors that had been thrust upon me, 
and soon another man was serving in my stead 
— and quite welcome he was to the pay and credit 
that might have been mine. 

I returned back to the Plains for employment, 
but there was nothing to do. The Indians, for 
a wonder, were quiet. There was little stirring 
in the military posts. I could have continued to 
serve in one of them if I had chosen, and the 
way was still open to study for a commission as 
an officer. But army life without excitement was 
not interesting for me, and when Ned Buntline 
offered me a chance to come East and try my for- 
tunes as an actor I accepted. 

I accepted with misgivings, naturally. Hunt- 
ing Indians across a stage differed from follow- 
ing them across the Plains. I knew the wild west- 
ern Indian and his ways. I was totally unac- 
quainted with the tame stage Indian, and the 
thought of a great gaping audience looking at me 
across the footlights made me shudder. 

But when my old *'pards," Wild Bill and Texas 
Jack, consented to try their luck with me in the 



258 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOKY 

new enterprise I felt better. Together we made 
the trip to New York, and played for a time in 
the hodgepodge drama written for us by Ned 
Buntline himself. 

Before any of ns would consent to be roped 
and tied by Thespis we insisted on a proviso that 
we be freed whenever duty called us to the Plains. 

The first season was fairly prosperous, and so 
was the second. The third year I organized a 
*'show" of my own, with real Indians in it — the 
first, I believe, who ever performed on a stage. 
I made money and began to get accustomed to the 
new life, but in 1876 the call for which I had been 
listening came. 

The Sioux War was just breaking out. I closed 
the show earlier than usual and returned to the 
West. Colonel Mills had written me several times 
to say that General Crook wanted me to accom- 
pany his command. When I left Chicago I had 
expected to catch up with Crook at the Powder 
River, but I learned en route that my old com- 
mand, the gallant Fifth Cavalry, was on its way 
from Arizona to join him, and that General Carr, 
my former commander, was at its head. 

Carr wanted me as his guide and chief of scouts, 
and had written to army headquarters in Chicago 
to learn where I could be reached. 

As soon as this news came to me I gave up the 
idea of overtaking Crook. I hastened to Chey- 
enne, where the Fifth Cavalry had already arrived, 
and was met at the depot there by Lieutenant 
Charles King, adjutant of the regiment, who had 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOKY 259 

been sent by General Carr from Fort D. A. Rus- 
sell. In later years, as General Charles King, this 
officer became a widely popular author, and wrote 
some of the best novels and stories of Indian life 
that I have ever read. 

As I accompanied the lieutenant back to the 
fort, we passed soldiers who recognized me and 
shouted greetings. When we entered the Post 
a great shout of ''Here's Buffalo Bill!" arose 
from the men on the parade ground. It was like 
old times, and I felt a thrill of happiness to be 
back among my friends, and bound for one of the 
regular old-time campaigns. The following 
morning the command pulled out for Fort Lara- 
mie. We found General Sheridan there ahead 
of us, and mighty glad was I to see that brave 
and able commander once more. Sheridan was 
accompanied by General Frye and General For- 
sythe, and all were en route for the Red Cloud 
Agency, near the center of the Sioux trouble, 
which was then reaching really alarming propor- 
tions. The command was to remain at Laramie 
for a few days; so, at General Sheridan's re- 
quest, I accompanied him on his journey. We 
were able to accomplish little in the way of peace 
overtures. 

The Indians had lately committed many serious 
depredations along the Black Hills trail. Gold 
had been discovered there in many new places, 
and the miners, many of them tenderfoots, and 
unused to the ways of the red man, had come 
into frequent conflict with their new neighbors. 



260 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

Massacres, some of them very flagrant, had re- 
sulted and most of the treaties our Government 
had made with the Indians had been ruthlessly 
broken. 

On my return from the agency, the Fifth Cav- 
alry was sent out to scout the country between 
there and the Black Hills. We operated along the 
south fork of the Cheyenne and about the foot 
of the Black Hills for two weeks, and had several 
small engagements with roving bands of Indians 
during that time. 

All these bands were ugly and belligerent, and 
it was plain from the spirit they showed that 
there had been a general understanding among 
all the redskins thereabout that the time had come 
to drive the white man from the country. 

Brevet-General Wesley Merritt, who had lately 
received his promotion to the colonelcy of the 
Fifth Cavalry, now took command of the regiment. 
I regretted that the command had been taken 
from General Carr. I was fond of him personally, 
and it was under him that the regiment made its 
fine reputation as a fighting organization. I soon 
became well acquainted with General Merritt, 
however, and found him to be a brave man and 
an excellent oflScer. 

The regiment did continuous and hard scout- 
ing. We soon believed we had driven all the 
hostile Indians out of that part of the country. 
In fact, we were starting back to Fort Laramie, 
regarding the business at hand as finished, when 
a scout arrived at our camp and reported the 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 261 

massacre of General Custer and Ms whole force 
on the Little Big Horn. 

This massacre occurred June 25, 1876, and its 
details are known, or ought to be known, by every 
schoolboy. Custer was a brave, dashing, head- 
long soldier, whose only fault was reckless- 
ness. 

He had been warned many times never to ex- 
pose a small command to a superior force of In- 
dians, and never to underestimate the ability and 
generalship of the Sioux. He had unbounded 
confidence, however, in himself and his men, and 
I believe that not until he was struck down did 
he ever doubt that he would be able to cut his 
way out of the wall of warriors about him and 
turn defeat into a glorious and conspicuous vic- 
tory. 

The news of the massacre, which was the most 
terrible that ever overtook a command of our 
soldiers, was a profound shock to all of us. We 
knew at once that we would all have work to do, 
and settled grimly into the preparations for it. 

Colonel Stanton, who was with the Fifth Cav- 
alry on this scout, had been sent to the Eed Cloud 
Agency two days before. That night a message 
came from him that eight hundred warriors had 
left the agency to join Sitting Bull on the Little 
Big Horn. Notwithstanding instructions to pro- 
ceed immediately by way of Fort Fetterman to 
join Crook, General Merritt took the responsi- 
bility of endeavoring to intercept the Cheyennes 
and thereby performed a very important service. 



262 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

For this job the general selected five hundred 
men and horses. In two hours we were making 
a forced march back to War Bonnet Creek. Our 
intention was to reach the Indian trail running 
to the north across this watercourse before the 
Cheyennes could get there. We arrived the next 
night. 

At daylight the next morning, July 17, I pro- 
ceeded ahead on a scout. I found that the In- 
dians had not yet crossed the creek. On my way 
back to the command I discovered a large party 
of Indians. I got close enough to observe them, 
and they proved to be Cheyennes, coming from 
the south. With this information I hurried back 
to report. 

The cavalrymen were ordered to mount their 
horses quietly and remain out of sight, while 
General Merritt, accompanied by two or three 
aides and myself, went on a little tour of observa- 
tion to a neighboring hill. From the summit of 
this we saw the Indians approaching almost di- 
rectly toward us. As we stood watching, fifteen 
or twenty of them wheeled and dashed off to the 
west, from which direction we had come the night 
before. 

Searching the country to see what it was which 
had caused this unexpected maneuver, we observed 
two mounted soldiers approaching us on the trail. 
Obviously they were bearing dispatches from the 
command of General Merritt. 

It was clear that the Indians who had left their 
main body were intent on intercepting and mur- 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOKY 263 

dering these two men. General Merritt greatly 
feared that they would accomplish this purpose. 
How to aid them was a problem. If soldiers 
were sent to their assistance, the Indians would 
observe the rescuers, and come to the right con- 
clusion that a body of troops was lying in wait 
for them. This of course would turn them back, 
and the object of our expedition would be de- 
feated. 

The commander asked me if I had any sugges- 
tions. 

''General," I replied, ''why not wait until the 
scouts get a little nearer? When they are about 
to charge on the two men, I will take fifteen sol- 
diers, dash down and cut them off from their 
main body. That will prevent them from going 
back to report, and the others will fall into our 
trap. ' ' 

The general at once saw the possibilities of the 
scheme. "If you can do that, Cody, go ahead," 
he said. 

I at once rushed back to the command and 
jumped on my horse. 

With fifteen of the best men I could pick in a 
hurry I returned to the point of observation. I 
placed myself and my men at the order of Gen- 
eral Merritt, and asked him to give me the word 
at the proper time. 

He was diligently studying the country before 
him with his field-glasses. When he thought the 
Indians were as close to the unsuspecting scouts 
as was safe, he sang out: ^ 



264 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

" Go on now, Cody, and be quick about it. They 
are going to charge on the couriers." 

The two soldiers were not more than a hun- 
dred yards from us. The Indians, now making 
ready to swoop down, were a hundred yards fur- 
ther on. 

We tore over the bluffs and advanced at a 
gallop. They saw us and gave battle. A run- 
ning fight lasted for several minutes, during which 
we drove them back a fairly safe distance and 
killed three of their number. 

The main body of the Cheyennes had now come 
into plain sight, and the men who escaped from 
us rode back toward it. The main force halted 
when its leaders beheld the skirmish, and seemed 
for a time at a loss as to what was best to 
do. 

We turned toward General Merritt, and when 
we had made about half the distance the Indians 
we had been chasing suddenly turned toward us 
and another lively skirmish took place. 

One of the Indians, who was elaborately deco- 
rated with all the ornaments usually worn by a 
great chief when he engaged in a fight, saw me 
and sang out: 

^'I know you, Pa-ho-has-ka ! Come and fight 
with me ! ' ' 

The name he used was one by which I had 
long been known by the Indians. It meant Long- 
Yellow-Hair. 

The chief was riding his horse to and fro in 
front of his men, in order to banter me. I con- 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 265 

eluded to accept his challenge. I turned and gal- 
loped toward him for fifty yards, and he rode 
toward me about the same distance. Both of us 
rode at full speed. When we were only thirty 
yards apart I raised my rifle and fired. His horse 
dropped dead under him, and he rolled over on 
the ground to clear himself of the carcass. 

Almost at the same instant my own horse 
stepped into a hole and fell heavily. The fall 
hurt me but little, and almost instantly I was 
on my feet. This was no time to lie down and 
nurse slight injuries. The chief and I were now 
both on our feet, not twenty paces apart. We 
fired at each other at the same instanl My 
usual luck held. His bullet whizzed harmlessly 
past my head, while mine struck him full in the 
breast. 

He reeled and fell, but I took no chances. He 
had barely touched the ground, when I was upon 
him, knife in hand, and to make sure of him drove 
the steel into his heart. 

This whole aifair, from beginning to end, occu- 
pied but little time. The Indians, seeing that I 
was a little distance from my pony, now came 
charging down upon me from the hill, in the hope 
of cutting me off. 

General Merritt had witnessed the duel, and, 
realizing the danger I was in, ordered Colonel 
Mason with Company K to hurry to my rescue. 
This order came none too soon. Had it been given 
one minute later two hundred Indians would have 
been upon me, and this present narration would 



266 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

have had to be made by some one else. As the 
soldiers came up I swung the war-bonnet high 
in the air and shouted: **The first scalp for 
Custer!" 

It was by this time clear to General Merritt 
that he could not ambush the Indians. So he 
ordered a general charge. For a time they made 
a stubborn resistance, but no eight hundred In- 
dians, or twice that number, for that matter, could 
make a successful stand against such veteran 
and fearless fighters as the Fifth Cavalry. They 
soon came to that conclusion themselves and 
began a running retreat for the Red Cloud 
Agency. 

For thirty-five miles, over the roughest kind 
of ground, we drove them before us. Soon they 
were forced to abandon their spare horses and all 
the equipment they had brought along. Despite 
the imminent risk of encountering thousands of 
other Indians at the Agency, we drove our late 
adversaries directly into it. No one in our com- 
mand had any assurance that the Indians gath- 
ered there had not gone on the warpath, but little 
difference that made to us. The Fifth Cavalry, 
on the warpath itself, would stop at nothing. It 
was dark when we entered the reservation. All 
about us we could see the huddling forms of In- 
dians — thousands of them — enough, in fact, to 
have consummated another Custer massacre. 
But they showed no disposition to fight. 

While at the Agency I learned that the Indian 
I had killed in the morning was none other than 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 267 

Yellow Hand, a son of old Cut Nose, who was a 
leading chief of the Cheyennes. The old man 
learned from the members of Yellow Hand's party 
that I had killed his son, and sent a white inter- 
preter to me offering four mules in exchange for 
the young chief's war-bonnet. This request I 
was obliged to refuse, as I wanted it as a trophy 
of the first expedition to avenge the death of 
Custer and his men. 

The next morning we started to join the com- 
mand of General Crook, which was encamped at 
the foot of Cloud Peak in the Big Horn Moun- 
tains. They had decided to await the arrival of 
the Fifth Cavalry before proceeding against the 
Sioux, who were somewhere near the head of the 
Big Horn Eiver, in a country that was as nearly 
inaccessible as any of the Western fastnesses. 
By making rapid marches we reached Crook's 
camp on Goose Creek about the third of August. 

At this camp I met many of my old friends, 
among them being Colonel Eoyal, who had just 
received his promotion to a lieutenant-colonelcy. 
Royal introduced me to General Crook, whom I 
had never met before, but with whose reputation 
as an Indian fighter I was of course familiar, as 
was everybody in the West. The general's chief 
guide was Frank Grouard, a half-breed, who had 
lived six years with Sitting Bull himself, and 
who was thoroughly familiar with the Sioux and 
their country. 

After one day in camp the whole command 
pulled out for Tongue River, leaving the wagons 



268 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

behind. Our supplies were carried by a big pack- 
train. Down the Tongue we marched for two 
days of hard going, thence westerly to the Rose- 
bud River. Here we struck the main Indian trail 
leading down-stream. From the size of this trail, 
which was not more than four days' old, we es- 
timated that at least seven thousand Indians, one 
of the biggest Indian armies ever gathered to- 
gether, must have gone that way. It was here 
that we were overtaken by Captain Jack Craw- 
ford, widely known East and West as ' ' The Poet 
Scout." Crawford had just heard of the Custer 
massacre, and had written a very creditable poem 
upon receipt of the news. His pen was always 
ready, and he made many epics of the West, many 
of which are still popular throughout the country. 
Jack was a tenderfoot at that time, having 
lately come to that country. But he had abun- 
dant pluck and courage. He had just brought 
dispatches to Crook from Fort Fetterman, riding 
more than three hundred miles through a country 
literally alive with hostile Indians. These dis- 
patches notified Crook that General Terry was 
to operate with a large command south of the 
Yellowstone, and that the two commands would 
probably consolidate somewhere on the Rosebud. 
On learning that I was with Crook, Crawford at 
once hunted me up, and gave me a letter from 
General Sheridan, announcing his appointment 
as a scout. He also informed me that he had 
brought me a present from General Jones, of 
Cheyenne. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 269 

''What kind of a present?" I inquired, seeing 
no indication of any package about Jack. 

**A bottle of whisky!" he almost shouted. 

I clapped my hand over his mouth. News that 
whisky was in the camp was likely to cause a 
raid by a large number of very dry scouts and 
soldier men. Only when Jack and I had assured 
ourselves that we were absolutely alone did I 
dare dip into his saddle pockets and pull forth 
the treasure. I will say in passing that I don't 
believe there is another scout in the West that 
would have brought a full bottle of whisky three 
hundred miles. But Jack was *'bone dry." As 
Crawford refused to join me, and I was never 
a lone drinker, I invited General Carr over to 
sample the bottle. We were just about to have 
a little drink for two when into camp rode young 
Lathrop, the reporter for the Associated Press 
to whom we had given the name of Death Rattler. 
Death Rattler appeared to have scented the 
whisky from afar, for he had no visible errand 
with us. We were glad to have him, however, 
as he was a good fellow, and certainly knew how 
to appreciate a drink. 

For two or three days the command pushed on, 
but we did not seem to gain much on the Indians. 
They apparently knew exactly where we were 
and how fast we were going, and they moved just 
as fast as we did. 

On the fourth day of our pursuit I rode about 
ten miles ahead of the command till I came to 
a hill which gave a fine view of the surrounding 



270 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

country. Mounting this, I searched the hills with 
my field-glasses. Soon I saw a great column of 
smoke rising about ten miles down the creek. As 
this cloud drifted aside in the keen wind, I could 
see a column of men marching beneath it. These 
I at first believed to be the Indians we were after, 
but closer study revealed them as General Terry's 
soldiers. 

I forthwith dispatched a scout who was with 
me to take this news to Crook. But he had no 
more than gone when I discovered a band of 
Indians on the opposite side of the creek and 
another party of them directly in front of me. 
For a few minutes I fancied that I had made 
a mistake, and that the men I had seen under the 
dust were really Indians after all. 

But very shortly I saw a body of soldiers form- 
ing a skirmish line. Then I knew that Terry's 
men were there, and that the Indians I had seen 
were Terry's scouts. These Indians had mis- 
taken me for an Indian, and, believing that I was 
the leader of a big party, shouted excitedly : * * The 
Sioux are coming." That is why the general 
threw out the skirmish line I had observed. 

General Terry, on coming into the Post, ordered 
the Seventh Cavalry to form a line of battle across 
the Eosebud ; he also brought up his artillery and 
had the guns unlimbered for action, doubtless 
dreading another Custer massacre. 

These maneuvers I witnessed from my hill with 
considerable amusement, thinking the command 
must be badly frightened. After I had enjoyed 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 271 

the situation to my heart's content I galloped 
toward the skirmish line, waving my hat. When 
I was within a hundred yards of the troops, Colo- 
nel Wier of the Seventh Cavalry rode out to 
meet me. He recognized me at once, and con- 
voyed me inside the line, shouting to the soldiers : 

*'Boys, here's Buffalo Bill!" Thereupon three 
rousing cheers ran all the way down the line. 

Colonel Wier presented me to General Terry. 
The latter questioned me closely and was glad to 
learn that the alarm had been a false one. I found 
that I was not entitled alone to the credit of hav- 
ing frightened the whole Seventh Cavalry. The 
Indian scouts had also seen far behind me the 
dust raised by Crook's troops, and were fully sat- 
isfied that a very large force of Sioux was in 
the vicinity and moving to the attack. 

At General Terry's request I accompanied him 
as he rode forward to meet Crook. That night 
both commands went into camp on the Rosebud. 
General Terry had his wagon-train with him, so 
the camp had everything to make life as com- 
fortable as it can be on an Indian trail. 

The officers had large wall-tents, with portable 
beds to stow inside them, and there were large 
hospital tents to be used as dining-rooms. Terry 's 
camp looked very comfortable and homelike. It 
presented a sharp contrast to the camp of Crook, 
who had for his headquarters only one small fly- 
tent, and whose cooking utensils consisted of a 
quart cup in which he brewed his own coffee, and 
a sharp stick on which he broiled his bacon. When 



272 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

I compared these two camps I concluded that 
Crook was a real Indian fighter. He had plainly 
learned that to follow Indians a soldier must not 
be hampered by any great weight of luggage or 
equipment. 

That evening General Terry ordered General 
Miles, with the Fifth Infantry, to return by a 
forced march to the Yellowstone, and to proceed 
by steamboat down that stream to the mouth of 
the Powder Eiver, where the Indians could be 
intercepted in case they made an attempt to cross 
the stream. The regiment made a forced march 
that night of thirty-five miles, which was splendid 
traveling for an infantry regiment through a 
mountainous country. 

Generals Crook and Terry spent the evening 
and the next day in council. The following morn- 
ing both commands moved out on the Indian trail. 
Although Terry was the senior officer, he did not 
assume command of both expeditions. Crook was 
left in command of his own troops, though the 
two forces operated together. We crossed the 
Tongue River and moved on to the Powder, pro- 
ceeding down that stream to a point twenty miles 
from its junction with the Yellowstone. There 
the Indian trail turned to the southeast, in the 
direction of the Black Hills. 

The two commands were now nearly out of 
supplies. The trail was abandoned, and the troops 
kept on down the Powder River to its confluence 
with the Yellowstone. There we remained for 
several days. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 273 

General Nelson A. Miles, who was at the head 
of the Fifth Infantry, and who had been scouting 
in the vicinity, reported that no Indians had as 
yet crossed the Yellowstone. Several steamboats 
soon arrived with large quantities of supplies, 
and the soldiers, who had been a little too close 
to famine to please them, were once more pro- 
vided with fuU stomachs on which they could fight 
comfortably, should the need for fighting arise. 

One evening while we were in camp on the 
Yellowstone at the mouth of the Powder River 
I was informed that Louis Richard, a half-breed 
scout, and myself, had been selected to accompany 
General Miles on a reconnaisance. We were to 
take the steamer Far West down the Yellowstone 
as far as Glendive Creek. We were to ride in the 
pilot-house and keep a sharp look-out for Indians 
on both banks of the river. The idea of scouting 
from a steamboat was to me an altogether novel 
one, and I was immensely pleased at the prospect. 

At daylight the next morning we reported on 
the steamer to General Miles, who had with him 
four or five companies of his regiment. We were 
somewhat surprised when he asked us why we 
had not brought our horses. We were at a loss 
to see how we could employ horses in the pilot- 
house of a river steamboat. He said that we might 
need them before we got back, so we sent for 
them and had them brought on board. 

In a few minutes we were looking down the 
river, the swift current enabling the little steamer 
to make a speed of twenty miles an hour. 



274 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOKY 

The commander of tlie Far West was Captain 
Grant March, a fine chap of whom I had often 
heard. For many years he was one of the most 
famous swift-water river captains in the country. 
It was on his steamer that the wounded from 
the battle of the Little Big Horn had been trans- 
ported to Fort Abraham Lincoln, on the Missouri 
River. On that trip he made the fastest steam- 
boat time on record. He was an excellent pilot, 
and handled his boat in those swift and dangerous 
waters with remarkable dexterity. 

With Eichard and me at our station in 'the pilot- 
house the little steamer went flying down-stream 
past islands, around bends, and over sandbars 
at a rate that was exhilarating, but sometimes a 
little disquieting to men who had done most of 
their navigating on the deck of a Western pony. 
Presently, far away inland, I thought I could 
see horses grazing, and reported this belief to 
General Miles. The general pointed out a large 
tree on the bank, and asked the captain if he 
could land the boat there. 

''I can not only land her there; I can make 
her climb the tree if you think it would be any 
use," returned March. 

He brought the boat skillfully alongside the 
tree, and let it go at that, as the general could 
see no particular advantage in sending the steam- 
boat up the tree. 

Eichard and I were ordered to take our horses 
and push out as rapidly as possible to see if there 
were any Indians in the vicinity. Meanwhile, 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 275 

General Miles kept his soldiers in readiness to 
march instantly if we reported any work for them 
to do. 

As we rode off, Captain March sang out: 

*'Boys, if there was only a heavy dew on the 
grass, I could send the old craft right along after 
yon. ' ' 

It was a false alarm, however. The objects 
I had seen proved to be Indian graves, with only 
good Indians in them. On arriving at Glendive 
Creek we found that Colonel Rice and his com- 
pany of the Fifth Infantry which had been sent 
on ahead by General Miles had built a good little 
fort with their trowel bayonets. Colonel Rice was 
the inventor of this weapon, and it proved very 
useful in Indian warfare. It is just as deadly 
in a charge as the regular bayonet, and can also 
be used almost as effectively as a shovel for dig- 
ging rifle-pits and throwing up intrenchments. 

The Far West was to remain at Glendive over- 
night. General Miles wanted a scout to go at 
once with messages for General Terry, and I was 
selected for the job. That night I rode seventy- 
five miles through the Bad Lands of the Yellow- 
stone. I reached General Terry's camp the next 
morning, after having nearly broken my neck a 
dozen times or more. 

Anyone who has seen that country in the day- 
time knows that it is not exactly the kind of a 
place one would pick out for pleasure riding. 
Imagine riding at night, over such a country, filled 
with almost every imaginable obstacle to travel, 



276 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

and without any real roads, and you can under- 
stand the sort of a ride I had that night. I was 
mighty glad to see the dawn break, and to be able 
to pick my way a little more securely, although 
I could not increase the pace at which I had driven 
my horse through the long, dark night. 

There was no present prospect of carrying this 
out, however. After I had taken lunch. General 
Terry asked me if I would carry some dispatches 
to General Whistler, and I replied that I would 
be glad to do so. Captain Smith, Terry's aide- 
de-camp, offered me his horse, and I was glad 
to accept the animal, as my own was pretty well 
spent. He proved to be a fine mount. I rode 
him forty miles that night in four hours, reach- 
ing General Whistler's steamboat at four in the 
morning. When Whistler had read the dispatches 
I handed him he said: 

"Cody, I want to send information to General 
Terry concerning the Indians that have been skir- 
mishing around here all day. I have been trying 
to induce some member in my command to carry 
them, but no one wants to go." 

"Get your dispatches ready, general," I re- 
plied, "and I'll take them." 

He went into his quarters and came out pres- 
ently with a package, which he handed me. I 
mounted the same horse which had brought me, 
and at eight o'clock that evening reached Terry's 
headquarters, just as his force was about to march. 

As soon as Terry had read the dispatches he 
halted bis command, which was already under 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 277 

way. Then he rode on ahead to overtake General 
Crook, with whom he held a council. At General 
Terry's urgent request I accompanied him on a 
scout for Dry Fork, on the Missouri. We marched 
three days, a little to the east of north. When 
we reached the buffalo range we discovered some 
fresh Indian signs. The redskins had been kill- 
ing buffalo, and the evidences of their work were 
very plain. Terry now called on me to carry 
dispatches to Colonel Kice, who was still en- 
camped at the mouth of Glendive Creek on the 
Yellowstone. This was about eighty miles dis-. 
tant. 

Night had set in with a storm. A drizzling 
rain was falling, which made the going slippery, 
and made the blackness of the Western Plains 
still blacker. I was entirely unacquainted with 
the section of the country through which I was to 
ride. I therefore traveled all night and remained 
in seclusion in the daytime. I had too many plans 
for the future to risk a shot from a hostile red- 
skin who might be hunting white men along my 
way. 

At daylight I unsaddled my mount and made a 
hearty breakfast of bacon and hardtack. Then 
I lighted my pipe, and, making a pillow of my 
saddle, lay down to rest. 

The smoke and the fatigue of the night's jour- 
ney soon made me drowsy, and before I knew 
it I was fast asleep. Suddenly I was awakened 
by a loud rumbling noise. I seized my gun in- 
stantly, and sprang toward my horse, which I 



278 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

had picketed in a hidden spot in the brush near 
by where he would be out of sight of any passing 
Indians. 

Climbing a steep hill, I looked cautiously over 
the country from which the noise appeared to 
come. There before me was a great herd of buf- 
falo, moving at full gallop. Twenty Indians were 
behind it, riding hard and firing into the herd 
as they rode. Others near by were cutting up 
the carcasses of the animals that had already been 
killed. 

I saddled my horse and tied him near me. Then 
I crawled on my stomach to the summit of the 
hill, and for two hours I lay there watching the 
progress of the chase. 

When the Indians had killed all the buffalo 
they wanted they rode off in the direction whence 
they had come. This happened to be the way 
that I hoped to go on my own expedition. I made 
up my mind that their camp was located some- 
where between me and Glendive Creek. I was 
not at all eager to have any communication with 
these gentlemen. Therefore, when X resumed my 
journey at nightfall, I made a wide detour around 
the place where I believed their camp would be. 
I avoided it successfully, reaching Colonel Rice's 
camp just after daybreak. 

The colonel had been fighting Indians almost 
every day since he encamped at this point. He 
was anxious that Terry should know of this so 
that reenforcements might be sent, and the coun- 
try cleared of the redskins. Of course it fell 



\ 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 279 

to my lot to carry this word back to Terry. 

I undertook the mission willingly enough, for 
by this time I was pretty well used to night riding 
through a country beset with perils, and rather 
enjoyed it. 

The strain of my recent rides had told on me, 
but the excitement bore me up. Indeed, when a 
man is engaged in work of this kind, the exhila- 
ration is such that he forgets all about the wear 
and tear on his system, and not until all danger 
is over and he is safely resting in camp does 
he begin to feel what he has been through. Then 
a good long sleep usually puts him all right again. 

Many and many a time I have driven myself 
beyond what I believed was the point of physical 
endurance, only to find that I was ready for still 
further effort if the need should arise. The fact 
that I continued in rugged health during all the 
time I was on the Plains, and have had little ill- 
ness throughout my life, seems to prove that liv- 
ing and working outdoors, despite its hardships, 
is far better for a man than any sedentary occu- 
pation can possibly be. 

I started back to overhaul General Terry, and 
on the third day out I found him at the head of 
Deer Creek. He was on his way to Colonel Rice's 
camp. He was headed in the right direction, but 
bearing too far east. He asked me to guide his 
command in the right course, which I did. On 
arriving at Glendive I bade good-by to the general 
and his officers and took passage on the Far West, 
which was on her way down the Missouri. At 



280 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

Bismarck I left the steamer, and proceeded by 
rail to Eochester, New York. 

It has been a great pleasure to me to meet and 
know and serve with such men as Crook and Miles. 
I had served long enough on the Plains to know 
Indian fighters when I saw them, and I cannot 
close this chapter without a tribute to both of 
these men. 

Miles had come to the West as a young man 
with a brilliant war record, having risen to a 
major-general of volunteers at the age, I think, 
of 26 or 27. 

He took naturally to Indian fighting. He 
quickly divested himself of all the tactics that 
were useless in this particular kind of warfare, 
and learned as much about the Indians as any 
man ever knew. 

Years later, when I was giving my Wild West 
Show in Madison Square Garden, General Miles 
visited it as my guest. 

The Indians came crowding around him, and 
followed him wherever he went, although other 
army officers of high reputation accompanied him 
on the visit. 

This Indian escort at last proved to be almost 
embarrassing, for the general could not go to 
any part of the Garden without four or five of 
the braves silently dogging his footsteps and 
drinking in his every word. 

When this was called to my attention I called 
one of the old men aside and asked him why he 
and his brothers followed Miles so eagerly. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 281 

I * ' Heap big chief ! ' ' was the reply. ' ' Him lickum 

Injun chiefs. Him biggest White Chief. Heap 
liknm." Which was really a very high tribute, 
as Indians are not given to extravagant praise. 

When we have met from time to time General 
Miles has been kind enough to speak well of me 
and the work I have done on the Plains. I am 
very glad to have this opportunity of returning 
the compliment. 

Crook was a man who lived and fought without 
any ostentation, but who had high courage and 
used rare judgment. The fact that he had com- 
mand of the forces in the West had much to 
do with their successes in subduing the hostile red 
man. Indeed, had not our army taught the In- 
dians that it was never safe, and usually extremely 
dangerous, to go on the warpath against the Big 
White Chief, organizations might have been 
formed which would have played sad havoc with 
our growing Western civilization. 

I am and always have been a friend of the 
Indian. I have always sympathized with him in 
his struggle to hold the country that was his by 
right of birth. 

But I have always held that in such a country 
as America the march of civilization was inevita- 
ble, and that sooner or later the men who lived 
in roving tribes, making no real use of the re- 
sources of the country, would be compelled to 
give way before the men who tilled the soil and 
used the lands as the Creator intended they should 
be used. 



282 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

In my dealings with the Indians we always 
understood each other. In a fight we did our best 
to kill each other. In times of peace we were 
friends. I could always do more with the Indians 
than most white men, and I think my success 
in getting so many of them to travel with my or- 
ganization was because I understood them and 
they understood me. 

Shrewd as were the generals who conducted 
the fight against the Indians, I believe they could 
have done little without the services of the men 
who all over the West served them in the capacity 
of scouts. 

The adventures of small scouting parties were 
at times even more thrilling than the battles be- 
tween the Indians and the troops. 

Among the ablest of the scouts I worked with 
in the West were Frank Grouard and Baptiste 
Fourier. At one time in his childhood Grouard 
was to all intents and purposes a Sioux Indian. 
He lived with the tribe, hunted and fought with 
them, and wore the breech-clout as his only sum- 
mer garment. 

He met some hunters and trappers while liv- 
ing this life. Their language recalled his child- 
hood, and he presently deserted his red-skinned 
friends and came back to his own race. 

His knowledge of the tongues of the Sioux, 
Cheyenne, and Crow Indians and his marvelous 
proficiency in the universal sign language made 
him an extremely desirable acquisition to the 
service. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 283 

Grouard and "Big Bat" (Baptiste Fourier) 
were the two scouts that guided Lieutenant Sib- 
ley, a young officer of experience and ability, on 
a scout with about thirty officers and John Fin- 
nerty of the Chicago Times, a newspaper man 
who was known all over the West. 

At eight 'clock at night they left their halting- 
place, Big Goose Creek, and in the silent moon- 
light made a phantom promenade toward the 
Little Big Horn. 

Presently they made out the presence of a war 
party ahead of them, and one of the scouts of 
this outfit began riding around in a circle, which 
meant that the enemy had been discovered. 

There were too many Indians to fight in the 
open, so Grouard led the soldiers to a deep thicket 
where there were plenty of logs and fallen timber 
out of which to make breastworks. 

The Indians repeatedly circled around them 
and often charged, but the white men, facing a 
massacre like that of Custer's men, steadily held 
them at bay by accurate shooting. 

Soon red reenforcements began to arrive. The 
Indians, feeling that they had now a sufficient ad- 
vantage, attempted another charge, as the result 
of which they lost White Antelope, one of the 
bravest of their chiefs. 

This dampened their ardor, but they kept up 
an incessant firing that rattled against the log 
breastworks like hailstones. 

Fearing that the Indians would soon start a 
fire and burn them out, Sibley ordered a retreat. 



284 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

The two scouts were left behind to keep up a 
desultory fire after night had fallen, in order to 
make the Indians think the party was still in its 
breastworks. Then the other men in single file 
struggled up the precipitous sides of the mountain 
above them, marching, stumbling, climbing, and 
falling according to the character of the ground 
they passed over. 

The men left behind finally followed on. The 
temperature fell below zero, and the night was 
one of suffering and horror. At last they gained 
a point in the mountains about twenty-five miles 
distant from Crook's command. 

Halting in a sheltered cave, they got a little 
sleep and started out just in time to escape ob- 
servation by a large war-party which was scout- 
ing in their direction. 

At night the jaded party, more dead than alive, 
forded Tongue River up to their armpits. Two 
were so exhausted that it was not considered ad- 
visable to permit them to plunge into the icy 
stream, and they were left on the bank till help 
could be sent to them. 

Those that got across dragged themselves over 
the trail to Crook's camp. The rocks had broken 
their boots, and with bleeding feet and many a 
bullet wound they managed to get within sight 
of the camp, where two men of the Second Cav- 
alry found them and brought them in. 

Sibley's men threw themselves on the ground, 
too exhausted to go another step. Hot food was 
brought them, and they soon were strong enough 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 285 

to go to Camp Cloud Peak, to receive tlie hos- 
pitality and sympathy of their comrades. The 
two men who had been left behind were brought 
in and cared for. 

This expedition was one of the most perilous 
in the history of the Plains, and the fact that there 
were any survivors is due to the skill, coolness, 
and courage of the two scouts, Grouard and 
Pourier. 



CHAPTER X 

My work on the Plains brought me many friends, 
among them being some of the truest and staunch- 
est that any man ever had. You who live your 
lives in cities or among peaceful ways cannot 
always tell whether your friends are the kind 
who would go through fire for you. But on the 
Plains one's friends have an opportunity to prove 
their mettle. And I found out that most of mine 
would as cheerfully risk their lives for me as they 
would give me a light for my pipe when I asked it. 

Such a friend was old ''Buffalo Chips," who 
certainly deserves a place in these memoirs of 
mine. 

One morning while I was sitting on my porch 
at North Platte, playing with my children, I saw 
a man limping on crutches from the direction of 
the Post hospital. He was a middle-aged man, 
but had long, flowing white hair, and the most 
deeply-pitted face I have ever beheld. 

Noticing that he seemed confused and in trou- 
ble, I sent the children out to bring him to me. 
He came up haltingly, and in response to my 
questioning told me that he had been rejected 
by the hospital because he had been a Confed- 
erate soldier and it was against their rules to 
accept any but Union veterans. 

I turned the stranger over to my sister, who 

286 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 287 

prepared a meal for him while I went over to 
the adjutant's office to see what could be done. 
I met General Emory in the adjutant 's office, and 
on my promise to pay the ex-Confederate 's bills, 
he gave me an order admitting him to the hos- 
pital. Soon my new protege, who said his name 
was Jim White, was duly installed, and receiving 
the treatment of which he stood in sore need. 

In a few weeks he had nearly recovered from 
the wound in his leg which had necessitated the 
use of his crutches. Every day he came to my 
house to play with the children and to care for my 
horses, a service for which he gruffly refused to 
accept any pay. 

Now and then he would borrow one of my rifles 
for a little practice. I soon discovered that he 
was a splendid shot, as well as an unusually fine 
horseman. My surprise at these accomplishments 
was somewhat lessened when he told me that he 
had spent his four years' war service as one of 
General J. E. B. Stuart's scouts. Stuart had 
no other kind of men in his command. 

For years, wherever I went, no matter how 
dangerous the errand, my new friend went along. 
The first time he followed me I still remember 
vividly. I had left the Post on a five days ' scout, 
and was particularly anxious that no one should 
know the direction I was to take. 

When I was four or five miles from the Post 
I looked back and saw a solitary horseman riding 
in my direction about a mile in my rear. When 
I stopped he stopped. I rode on for a little way 



288 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

and looked around again. He was exactly the 
same distance behind me, and pulled his horse 
up when I halted. This maneuver I repeated 
several times, always with the same result. Con- 
siderably disquieted by this mysterious pursuit, 
I decided to discover the reason for it. I whipped 
up my horse and when I had put a sandhill be- 
tween myself and the man behind I made a quick 
detour through a ravine, and came up in his rear. 
Then I boldly rode up till I came abreast of him. 

He swung around when he heard me coming, 
and blushed like a girl when he saw how I had 
tricked him. 

''Look here. White," I demanded, "what the 
devil are you following me in this way for?" 

"Mrs. Cody said I could follow you if I wanted 
to," he said, "and, well, I just followed you, 
that's all." 

That was all he would say. But I knew that 
he had come along to keep me from getting hurt 
if I was attacked, and would rather die than 
admit his real reason. So I told him to come 
along, and come along he did. 

There was no need for his services on that occa- 
sion, but a little later he put me in debt to him 
for my life. He and I rode together into a bor- 
der town, where there were a few gentlemen in 
the horse-stealing business who had reason to wish 
me moved along to some other sphere. I left 
White to look after the horses as we reached the 
town, and went into a hotel to get a nip, for which 
I felt a very great need. White noticed a couple 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 289 

of rough-looking chaps behind the barn as he 
put the horses away and quietly slipped to a win- 
dow where he could overhear their conversation. 

''We'll go in while he is taking a drink," one 
of them was saying, "and shoot him from behind. 
He'll never have a chance." 

Without a word to me. White hurried into the 
hotel and got behind the door. Presently the two 
men entered, both with drawn revolvers. But 
before they could raise them White covered them 
with his own weapon and commanded them sternly 
to throw up their hands, an order with which they 
instantly complied after one look at his face. 

I wheeled at the order, and recognized his two 
captives as the men I was looking for, a pair 
of horse-thieves and murderers whom I had been 
sent to apprehend. My revolvers were put into 
instant requisition, and I kept them covered while 
White removed the guns with which they had 
expected to put me out of their way. 

With White's help I conducted these gentle- 
men forty miles back to the sheriff's office, and 
they walked every step of the way. Each of them 
got ten years in the penitentiary as soon as they 
could be tried. They either forgave me or forgot 
me when they got out, for I never heard of either 
of them again. 

In the campaign of 1876 I secured employment 
for White as a scout. He was with me when 
Terry and Crook's commands separated on the 
Yellowstone. By this time he had come to copy 
my gait, my dress, my speech, and even my fashion 



290 BU:PFAL0 BILL'S OWN STORY 

of wearing my hair down on my shoulders, though 
mine at that time was brown, and his was white 
as the driven snow. 

We were making a raid on an Indian village, 
which was peopled with very lively and very bel- 
ligerent savages. I had given White an old red- 
lined coat, one which I had worn conspicuously 
in a number of battles, and which the Indians 
had marked as a special target on that account. 

A party of Indians had been driven from among 
the lodges into a narrow gorge, and some of the 
soldiers, among them Captain Charles King, had 
gone after them. As they were proceeding cau- 
tiously, keeping under cover as much as possible. 
King observed White creeping along the opposite 
bluff, rifle in hand, looking for a chance at the 
savages huddled below, and hoping to distract 
their fire so they would do as little damage as 
possible to the soldiers who were closing in on 
them. 

White crawled along on all-fours till he reached 
a stunted tree on the brim of the ravine. There 
he halted, brought his rifle to his shoulder in 
readiness to aim and raised himself slowly to 
his feet. He was about to fire, when one of the 
Indians in the hole below spotted the red-lined 
coat. There was a crack, a puff of smoke, and 
White toppled over, with a bullet through his 
heart. The coat had caught the attention of the 
savages, and thus I had been the innocent means 
of my friend's death; for, with the soldiers press- 
ing them so hard, it is not likely that any of the 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 291 

warriors would have wasted a shot had they not 
thought they were getting Pa-ho-has-ka. For a 
long time the Indians believed that I would be 
a menace to them no more forever. But they 
discovered their mistake later, and I sent a good 
many of them to the Happy Hunting-Grounds as 
a sort of tribute to my friend. 

Poor old White! A more faithful man never 
took a trail, nor a braver. He was a credit to me, 
and to the name which General Sheridan had first 
given him in derision, but which afterward became 
an honor, the name of ''Buffalo Chips." 

When Terry and Crook's commands joined on 
the Yellowstone both commands went into camp 
together and guards were placed to prevent sur- 
prise. The scene was typical of the Old West, 
but it would astonish anyone whose whole idea of 
warfare has been gained by a visit to a modern 
military post or training camp, or the vast camps 
where the reserve forces are drilled and equipped 
for the great European war. 

Generals Crook, Merritt, and Carr were in 
rough hunting rigs, utterly without any mark of 
their rank. Deerskin, buckskin, corduroy, can- 
vas, and rags indiscriminately covered the rest 
of the command, so that unless you knew the 
men it was totally impossible to distinguish be- 
tween officers and enlisted men. However, every 
one in the commands knew every one else, and 
there was no confusion. 

A great part of that night was spent in swap- 
ping stories of recent experiences. All of them 



292 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

were thrilling, even to veteran campaigners fresh 
from the trail. There was no need of drawing 
the long bow in those days. The truth was plenty- 
exciting enough to suit the most exacting, and 
we sat about like schoolboys, drinking in each 
other's tales, and telling our own in exchange. 

A story of a personal adventure and a hair- 
breadth escape in which Lieutenant De Rudio fig- 
ured was so typical of the fighting days of the 
West that I want my readers to know it. I shall 
tell it, as nearly as I can, just as it came to me 
around the flickering fire in that picturesque bor- 
der camp. 

De Rudio had just returned from his adventure, 
and he told it to us between puffs of his pipe so 
realistically that I caught several of my old 
friends of the Plains peering about into the dark- 
ness as if to make sure that no lurking redskins 
were creeping up on them. 

In the fight of a few days before De Rudio 
was guarding a pony crossing with eight men 
when one of them sang out: 

''Lieutenant, get your horse, quick. Reno (the 
commander of the outfit) is retreating!" No 
trumpet had sounded, however, and no orders had 
been given, so the lieutenant hesitated to retire. 
His men left in a hurry, but he remained, quietly 
waiting for the call. 

Presently, looking behind him, he saw thirty 
or forty Indians coming full gallop. He wheeled 
and started to get into safer quarters. As he 
did so they cut loose with a volley. He leaned 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 293 

low on his horse as they shot, and the bullets sang 
harmlessly over his head. 

Before him was a fringe of thick underbrush 
along the river, and into this he forced his un- 
willing horse. The bullets followed and clipped 
the twigs about him like scissors. At last he 
gained the creek, forded, and mounted the bank 
on the other side. Here, instead of safety, he 
found hundreds of Indians, all busily shooting 
at the soldiers, who were retreating discreetly 
in the face of a greatly superior force. He was 
entirely cut off from retreat, unless he chose to 
make a bold dash for his life right through the 
middle of the Indians. This he was about to do, 
when a young Indian, who had observed him, sent 
a shot after him, and his horse fell dead under 
him, rolling over and over, while he managed to 
scramble to his feet. 

The shot had attracted the attention of all the 
Indians in that immediate neighborhood, and there 
were plenty of them there for all offensive pur- 
poses. De Eudio jumped down the creek bank 
and hid in an excavation while a hail of bullets 
spattered the water ahead of him and raised a 
dozen little clouds of dust at his feet. 

So heavy had this volley been that the Indians 
decided that the bullets had done their work, and 
a wild yell broke from them. 

Suddenly the yell changed to another sort of 
outcry, and the firing abruptly ceased. Peering 
out, De Rudio saw Captain Benteen's column com- 
ing up over the hill. He began to hope that his 



294: BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

rescue was at hand. But in a few minutes the 
soldiers disappeared and the Indians all started 
off after them. 

Just beyond the hill w^as the noise of a lively 
battle, and he made up his mind that Reno 's com- 
mand had rallied, and that if he could join them 
he might be saved. 

Working his way softly through the brush he 
was nearing the summit of the slope when he 
heard his name whispered and saw three of his 
own company in the brush. Two of them were 
mounted. The horse of the third had been kiUed. 

The three men remained in the bushes, lying 
as low as they could and making no sound. Look- 
ing out now and then, they could see an old Indian 
woman going about, taking scalps and mutilating 
the bodies of the soldiers who had been slain. 
Most of the warriors were occupied with the bat- 
tle, but now and then a warrior, suspicious that 
soldiers were still lurking in the brush, would ride 
over in their direction and fire a few shots that 
whistled uncomfortably close to their heads. 

Presently the firing on the hill ceased, and hun- 
dreds of Indians came slowly back. But they 
were hard pressed by the soldiers, and the battle 
was soon resumed, to break out intermittently 
through the entire night. 

In a quiet interval the two soldiers got their 
horses, and with their companion and De Rudio 
holding to the animals' tails forded the river and 
made a detour round the Indians. Several times 
they passed close to Indians. Once or twice 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 295 

they were fired on and answered the fire, but their 
luck was with them and they escaped bringing a 
general attack down upon them. 

As they were making their way toward the edge 
of the clearing they saw directly before them 
a party of men dressed in the ragged uniforms 
of American cavalrymen, and all drew deep 
breaths of relief. Help seemed now at hand. But 
just as they sprang forward to join their supposed 
comrades a fiendish yell broke from the horsemen. 
In another instant the four unfortunates were 
rushing to cover, with a dozen Indians, all dressed 
in the clothing taken from dead soldiers, in hot 
pursuit. 

The Indians had been planning a characteristic 
piece of Sioux strategy. As fast as it could be 
accomplished they had been stripping the clothing 
from dead and wounded soldiers and garbing 
themselves in it with the purpose of deceiving the 
outposts of Eeno's command and surprising the 
Americans as soon as day broke. Had it not 
been for the accidental discovery of the ruse by 
De Kudio's party it might have succeeded only 
too well. 

The lieutenant and his companions managed to 
get away safely and to find shelter in the woods. 
But the Indians immediately fired the underbrush 
and drove them further and further on. Then, 
just as they had begun to despair of their lives, 
their pursuers, who had been circling around the 
tangle of scrub growth, began singing a slow 
chant and withdrew to the summit of the hill. 



296 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

There they remained in council a little time and 
then cantered away single file. 

Fearing another trap, the white men remained 
for weary hours in their hiding-place, but at last 
were compelled by thirst and hunger to come out. 

No Lidians were visible, nor did any appear 
as, worn out and dispirited, they dragged them- 
selves to the camp of the soldiers. In the forty- 
eight hours since he had been cut off from his 
command De Rudio had undergone all the horrors 
of Indian warfare and a hundred times had given 
himself up for dead. 

Bullets had passed many times within a few 
inches of him. Half a dozen times only a lucky 
chance had intervened between him and the hor- 
rible death that Indians know so well how to in- 
flict. Yet, save for the bruises from his fall off 
his horse, and the abrasions of the brush through 
which he had traveled, he had never received a 
scratch. 



CHAPTER XI 

Of all the Indians I encountered in my years 
on the Plains the most resourceful and intelligent, 
as well as the most dangerous, were the Sioux. 
They had the courage of dare-devils combined 
with real strategy. They mastered the white 
man's tactics as soon as they had an opportunity 
to observe them. Incidentally they supplied all 
thinking and observing white commanders with 
a great deal that was well worth learning in the 
art of warfare. The Sioux fought to win, and 
in a desperate encounter were absolutely reckless 
of life. 

But they also fought wisely, and up to the min- 
ute of closing in they conserved their own lives 
with a vast amount of cleverness. The maxim 
put into words by the old Confederate fox, Foi-- 
rest: "Get there fustest with the mostest," 
was always a fighting principle with the 
Sioux. 

They were a strong race of men, the braves 
tall, with finely shaped heads and handsome fea- 
tures. They had poise and dignity and a great 
deal of pride, and they seldom forgot either a 
friend or an enemy. 

The greatest of all the Sioux in my time, or in 
any time for that matter, was that wonderful old 
fighting man, Sitting Bull, whose life will some 

297 



298 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

day be written by a historian who can really give 
him his due. 

Sitting Bull it was who stirred the Indians to 
the uprising whose climax was the massacre of 
the Little Big Horn and the destruction of Cus- 
ter's command. 

For months before this uprising he had been 
going to and fro among the Sioux and their allies 
urging a revolt against the encroaching white 
man. It was easy at that time for the Indians 
to secure rifles. The Canadian-French traders 
to the north were only too glad to trade them 
these weapons for the splendid supplies of furs 
which the Indians had gathered. Many of these 
rifles were of excellent construction, and on a 
number of occasions we discovered to our cost 
that they outranged the army carbines with which 
we were equipped. 

After the Custer massacre the frontier became 
decidedly unsafe for Sitting Bull and the chiefs 
who were associated with him, and he quietly 
withdrew to Canada, where he was for the time 
being safe from pursuit. 

There he stayed till his followers began leav- 
ing him and returning to their reservations in the 
United States. Soon he had only a remnant of 
his followers and his immediate family to keep 
him company. Warily he began negotiating for 
immunity, and when he was fully assured that 
if he would use his influence to quiet his people 
and keep them from the warpath his life would 
be spared, he consented to return. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 299 

He had been lonely and unhappy in Canada. 
An accomplished orator and a man with a gift 
of leadership, he had pined for audiences to sway 
and for men to do his bidding. He felt sure that 
these would be restored to him once he came 
back among his people. As to his pledges, I have 
no doubt that he fully intended to live up to them. 
He carried in his head all the treaties that had 
been made between his people and the white men, 
and could recite their minutest details, together 
with the dates of their making and the names 
of the men who had signed for both sides. 

But he was a stickler for the rights of his race, 
and he devoted far more thought to the trend 
of events than did most of his red brothers. 

Here was his case, as he often presented it to 
me: 

''The White Man has taken most of our land. 
He has paid us nothing for it. He has destroyed 
or driven away the game that was our meat. In 
1868 he arranged to build through the Indians* 
land a road on which ran iron horses that ate 
wood and breathed fire and smoke. We agreed. 
This road was only as wide as a man could stretch 
his arms. But the White Man had taken from 
the Indians the land for twenty miles on both 
sides of it. This land he had sold for money to 
people in the East. It was taken from the In- 
dians. But the Indians got nothing for it. 

''The iron horse brought from the East men 
and women and children, who took the land from 
the Indians and drove out the game. They built 



V. 



300 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

fires, and the fires spread and burned the prairie 
grass on which the buffalo fed. Also it destroyed 
the pasturage for the ponies of the Indians. Soon 
the friends of the first White Men came and took 
more land. Then cities arose and always the 
White Man's lands were extended and the Indians 
pushed farther and farther away from the country 
that the Great Father had given them and that 
had always been theirs. 

''When treaties were broken and the Indians 
trespassed on the rights of the White Man, my 
chiefs and I were always here to adjust the White 
Man's wrongs. 

''When treaties were broken and the Indians* 
rights were infringed, no one could find the white 
chiefs. They were somewhere back toward the 
rising sun. There was no one to give us justice. 
New chiefs of the White Men came to supplant 
the old chiefs. They knew nothing of our wrongs 
and laughed at us. 

"When the Sioux left Minnesota and went be- 
yond the Big Muddy the white chiefs promised 
them they would never again be disturbed. Then 
they followed us across the river, and when we 
asked for lands they gave us each a prairie 
chicken's flight four ways (a hundred and sixty 
acres) ; this they gave us, who once had all the 
land there was, and whose habit is to roam as 
far as a horse can carry us and then continue 
our journey till we have had our fill of wan- 
dering. 

"We are not as many as the White Man. But 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 301 

we know that this land is our land. And while 
we live and can fight, we will fight for it. If the 
White Man does not want us to fight, why does 
he take our land? If we come and build our 
lodges on the White Man's land, the White Man 
drives us away or kills us. Have we not the same 
right as the White Man?" 

The forfeiture of the Black Hills and unwise 
reduction of rations kept alive the Indian dis- 
content. When, in 1889, Congress passed a law 
dividing the Sioux reservation into many smaller 
ones so as to isolate the different tribes of the 
Dakota nation a treaty was offered them. This 
provided payment for the ponies captured or de- 
stroyed in the war of 1876 and certain other con- 
cessions, in return for which the Indians were to 
cede about half their land, or eleven million acres, 
which was to be opened up for settlement. 

The treaty was submitted to the Indians for a 
vote. They came in from the woods and the 
plains to vote on it, and it was carried by a very 
narrow majority, many of the Indians insisting 
that they had been coerced by their necessities into 
casting favorable ballots. 

Congress delayed and postponed the fulfillment 
of the promised conditions, and the Indian unrest 
increased as the months went by. Even after 
the land had been taken over and settled up. 
Congress did not pass the appropriation that was 
necessary before the Indians could get their 
money. 

Sitting Bull was appealed to for aid, and once 



302 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

more began employing his powerful gift of ora- 
tory in the interest of armed resistance against 
the white man. 

Just at this time a legend whose origin was 
beyond all power to fathom became current among 
the red men of the north. 

From one tribe to another spread the tidings 
that a Messiah was to come back to earth to use 
his miraculous power in the interest of the Indian. 
The whites were to be driven from the land of 
the red man. The old days of the West were 
to be restored. The ranges were to be re-stocked 
with elk, antelope, deer, and buffalo. 

Soon a fever of fanaticism had infected every 
tribe. Not alone were the Sioux the victims of 
this amazing delusion, but every tribe on the 
continent shared in it. 

There was to be a universal brotherhood of red 
men. Old enmities were forgotten. Former foes 
became fast friends. The Yaquis in Mexico sent 
out word that they would be ready for the great 
Armageddon when it came. As far north as 
Alaska there were ghost dances and barbaric fes- 
tivities to celebrate the coming restoration of the 
Indian to the lands of his inheritance. 

And as the Indians danced, they talked and 
sang and thought of war, while their hatred of 
the white man broke violently forth. 

Very much disquieted at the news of what was 
going on the War Department sent out word to 
stop the dancing and singing. Stop it ! You could 
as easily have stopped the eruption of Mount 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 303 

Lassen! Among the other beliefs that spread 
among the Indians was one that all the sick would 
be healed and be able to go into battle, and that 
young and old, squaws and braves alike, would 
be given shirts which would turn the soldiers' 
bullets like armor-plate. 

Every redskin believed that he could not be 
injured. None of them had any fear of battle, 
or any suspicions that he could be injured in the 
course of the great holy war that was to come. 



CHAPTER XII 

In November, 1890, I was returning from Eu- 
rope with my Wild West Company. When the 
New York pilot came aboard he brought a big 
packet of papers. That was before the days of 
wireless, and we had had no tidings of what was 
going on in the world since we had left the other 
side. 

As he came up the ladder he recognized me, 
and shouted: "Colonel, there's a big Indian war 
started! I guess you'll be needed out there." 

I seized the papers and eagerly read the details 
of the threatened outbreak. I was not surprised 
when, on arriving at Quarantine, I was handed 
a telegram from General Miles. 

I was requested to come to Chicago as soon 
as possible, and to telegraph the time of my 
arrival. Canceling all New York engagements, 
I caught the first train for the West, and in 
thirty-six hours reported to General Miles in his 
headquarters. 

He briefly described to me what had been hap- 
pening and went over with me the maps of the 
Western States where the Indians were getting 
ready for war. He said that it was his under- 
standing that the Bad Lands of North Dakota 
had been selected as the battle-ground by the In- 
dians, and asked me to give him all the informa- 

804 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 305 

tion I possessed about that country and its acces- 
sibility for troops. 

Miles was about to leave for the Pine Eidge 
Agency, and take conmiand of the campaign to 
put down the Indians. 

I was thoroughly familiar with the Bad Lands, 
and spent an hour or more in discussing the com- 
ing campaign with the general. We both agreed 
that the Indians had selected a particularly good 
country for their uprising, and an especially good 
season, as in winter, with the hills covered with 
snow, and blizzards of almost daily occurrence, 
it would be far harder to hunt them out than in 
summer, when the troops could travel easily. 

Miles said that Sitting Bull had his camp some- 
where within forty or fifty miles of the Standing 
Eock Agency, and was haranguing the Indians 
thereabout, spreading the Messiah talk and get- 
ting them to join him. He asked me if I could 
go immediately to Standing Eock and Fort Yates, 
and thence to Sitting Bull's camp. 

He knew that I was an old friend of the chief, 
and he believed that if any one could induce the 
old fox to abandon his plans for a general war I 
could. If I could not dissuade him from the war- 
path the general was of the opinion that I might 
be able to delay him in taking it, so that troops 
could be sent into the country in time to prevent 
a horrible massacre of the defenseless white 
settlers, who were already in terror of their 
lives. 

I knew that this would be the most dangerous 



306 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

undertaking of my career. I was sure tliat if I 
could reach Sitting Bull lie would at least listen 
to me. But in the present inflamed state of the 
Indian mind it would be next to impossible to 
get to his camp alive. 

Nevertheless I was quite ready to take the 
risk. I knew what fearful damage could be done 
by a sudden uprising of fanatical and infuriated 
Indians, and any danger to me personally was 
as nothing to the importance of preventing such 
a thing, if possible. 

Having no standing as an army officer or as 
a Government agent, it was necessary for me to 
be supplied with some sort of credentials, in order 
to secure the assistance I should need on my 
mission. "When I informed General Miles of this 
he took one of his visiting-cards from a case and 
wrote the following on the back of it : 

To Commanding Officeks of United States Tboops : 

Furnish Colonel William F. Cody with any assistance or escort 
that he may ask for. Nelson A. Miles. 

I took the next train for Mandan, N. D., which 
was the station nearest the Standing Rock Agency. 
There I hired a livery team and driver for the 
ride of sixty-five miles to the Agency. I had 
considerable difficulty in securing a driver, as 
the report had gone abroad that all the Indians 
were on the warpath, and few of the settlers cared 
to risk their scalps on such a venture. But I went 
higher and higher in my offers, till at last a livery- 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 307 

man figured that a hundred dollars was sufficient 
reward for the risk, and, hitching up his team, 
told me to come along. 

After an intensely cold drive we reached the 
Agency, where I hurried into the trader's store 
to thaw out by his stove. I had hardly arrived 
before the trader came in and told me that Major 
McLaughlin, the Indian agent, wanted to see me. 
News travels very fast in the Indian country, 
especially in war times. Someone about the 
Post who had seen me driving in had hur- 
ried to headquarters to inform the agent that 
Buffalo Bill had arrived by way of reenforce- 
ments. 

As soon as I got my chilled blood into circula- 
tion I went to the major's quarters, and informed 
him of the purpose of my visit. We were old 
friends, and he was very glad to see me, but he 
was much concerned on learning what I intended 
to do. 

''That is impossible!" he said. ''The Sioux 
are threatening a great war. At this very mo- 
ment we do not know when the Indians here at 
the Agency may rise. We can take care of our 
own situation, for we have four troops of cav- 
alry here, but we cannot permit you to go to 
Sitting Bull's camp. Not only would you be kiUed 
before you got halfway there, but your presence 
in the country would precipitate hostilities for 
which we are not in the least prepared. I'm 
sorry, Cody, but it can't be done." 

More fully to persuade me of the truth of what 



308 BIIPFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

lie said he took me to the quarters of Colonel 
Brown, the commander of the troops at the 
Agency, and asked him to talk to me. Brown 
listened to my statement of what I proposed and 
shook his head. 

''I've heard of you, Cody, and of your nerve, 
but this is more than even you can do. Sitting 
Bull's camp is forty miles away, and the country 
between here and there is swarming with In- 
dians all ready to go on the warpath, and w^holly 
beyond the sway of reason. I cannot permit you 
to make this attempt." 

' ' Do you hear, Cody ? ' ' said McLaughlin. ' ' The 
only thing for you to do is to stay all night with 
us and then return to the railroad. Even that 
will be risky enough, even for you." "But go 
you must," added Brown. " The Agency is under 
martial law, and I cannot permit you to remain 
any longer than tomorrow morning." 

There was no arguing with these men. So I 
resorted to my credentials. Taking General 
Miles 's card from my pocket, I laid it before 
Colonel Brown. 

"What does this mean?" he demanded, and 
passed the card to McLaughlin. 

"It looks like orders," said McLaughlin. 

"Yes," said Brown, "and I can't disobey 
them." 

Just then Captain Fatchett, an old friend of 
mine, came into the quarters, and Brown turned 
me over to him for entertainment until I should 
formulate my plans for my visit to Sitting Bull. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 309 

I had never served with the Eighth Cavalry to 
which the companies at the Post belonged, but 
I had many friends among the officers, and spent 
a very pleasant afternoon and evening talking 
over old times, and getting information about the 
present situation. 

After guard-mount the next morning I told 
Colonel Brown that I did not think I would re- 
quire an escort for my visit, as the presence of 
a number of armed men in the Indian country 
would be sure to start the trouble it was our pur- 
pose to avoid, or to delay as long as possible. 
The man who had driven me over was anxious 
to return at once, so I asked for a light spring- 
wagon and a team of mules. 

**Wait an hour or two," said the colonel, **and 
I'll send the quartermaster to you." 

I waited, and he employed the time, as I after- 
ward learned, in telegraphing to General Miles, to 
the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, to the Sec- 
retary of the Interior, and to President Har- 
rison. He informed all of them that I was there, 
insisting on going to Sitting Bull's camp, and 
that such an errand would not only result in 
my death, but would precipitate the outbreak then 
brewing, and for which he was not at all pre- 
pared. He besought all of them to instruct me 
to return to Mandan. 

While he waited for replies to his dispatches 
I hunted about the camp for someone who knew 
just where Sitting Bull was located and how to 
get there. I also wanted a first-class interpreter, 



310 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

as I would have matters to discuss with Sitting 
Bull beyond his mastery of English or mine of 
Sioux to express. At last I found a man who 
agreed to go with me as guide for five hundred 
dollars, which I promised him without a protest. 
Then I went over to the post-trader's store and 
bought all manner of presents which I knew would 
be acceptable to Sitting Bull, his squaw, and his 
children. 

When I returned to Colonel Brown's quarters 
he endeavored once more to put me off. But I 
would not be put off. I informed him that I 
had explicit orders from General Miles as to 
my mission, and that if he interfered with 
me he was violating the orders of his com- 
manding officer and running into very serious 
trouble. 

At last he reluctantly sent for the quartermas- 
ter, and ordered him to have a span of good mules 
hitched to a light spring-wagon. 

The wagon was driven to the post-trader's 
store, where I found my guide and interpreter, 
and loaded aboard the presents I had bought for 
the old warrior. With plenty of robes to keep 
out the intense cold, we started out on our jour- 
ney, a little apprehensive, but fully determined 
to go through with it. Five or six miles from 
the Post we met three men in a wagon driving 
toward the Agency. They told us that Sitting 
Bull's camp had been lately moved, and that it 
was now further down the river. I knew that if 
the old man was really on the warpath he would 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 311 

be moving up the river, not down, so I felt con- 
siderably reassured. 

When we had proceeded a few miles further 
we heard a yell behind us, and, looking back, saw 
a rider approaching at full speed. This proved 
to be one of Major McLaughlin's Indian scouts. 
He bore a telegram reading: 

Colonel William F. Cody, Fort Yates, N. D.: 

The order for the detention of Sitting Bull has been rescinded. 
You are hereby ordered to return to Chicago and report to 
General Miles. 

Benjamin Hakbison, President. 

That ended my mission to Sitting Bull. I still 
believe I could have got safely through the coun- 
try, though there were plenty of chances that I 
would be killed or wounded in the attempt. 

I returned to the Post, turned back my presents 
at a loss to myself, and paid the interpreter fifty 
dollars for his day's work. He was very glad 
to have the fifty and a whole skin, for he could 
jDot figure how the five hundred would be of 
much help to him if he had been stretched out 
on the Plains with an Indian bullet through 
him. 

I was supplied with conveyance back to Mandan 
by Colonel Brown and took my departure the next 
morning. Afterward, in Indianapolis, President 
Harrison informed me that he had allowed himself 
to be persuaded against my mission in opposition 
to his own judgment, and said he was very sorry 
that he had not allowed me to proceed. 



312 BUFFi ^:) BILL'S OWN STORY 

It developed afterward that the people who had 
moved the President to interfere consisted of a 
party of philanthropists who advanced the argu- 
ment that my visit would precipitate a war in 
which Sitting Bull would be killed, and it was 
to spare the life of this man that I was 
stopped ! 

The result of the President's order was that 
the Ghost Dance War followed very shortly, and 
with it came the death of Sitting Bull. 

I found that General Miles knew exactly why 
I had been turned back from my trip to Sitting 
Bull. But he was a soldier, and made no criticism 
of the order of a superior. General Miles was 
glad to hear that I had been made a brigadier- 
general, but he was still more pleased with 
the fact that I knew so many Indians at the 
Agency. 

*^You can get around among them," he said, 
**and learn their intentions better than any other 
man I know." 

I remained with General Miles until the final 
surrender of the North American Indians to the 
United States Government after three hundred 
years of warfare. 

This surrender was made to Miles, then lieuten- 
ant-general of the army, and it was eminently fit- 
ting that a man who had so ably conducted the 
fight of the white race against them and had dealt 
with them so justly and honorably should have 
received their surrender. 

With that event ended one of the most pictu- 



BUFFALO BILL'S 0^ 3T0RY 313 

resque phases of Western life — Indian fighting. 
It was with that that I was identified from my 
youth to my middle age, and in the time I spent 
on the Plains, Indian warfare reached its greatest 
severity and its highest development. 



CHAPTER Xm 

In the preceding chapters I have sketched briefly 
some of the most interesting of my adventures 
on the Plains. It has been necessary to omit 
much that I would like to have told. For twenty 
years my life was one of almost contmuous ex- 
citement, and to tell the whole story would require 

many volumes. , . ^i xn- 4. 

It was because of my great interest m the West, 
and my belief that its development would be as- 
sisted by the interest I could awaken in others, 
that I decided to bring the West to the East 
through the medium of the Wild West Show. 
How greatly I was to succeed in this venture I 
had no idea when it first occurred to me. As I 
have told you, I had already appeared m a small 
Western show, and was the first man to bring 
Indians to the East and exhibit them. But the 
theater was too small to give any real impression 
of what Western life was like. Only in an arena 
where horses could be ridden at full gallop, 
where lassos could be thrown, and pistols and 
guns fired without frightening the audience 
half to death, could such a thing be at- 

temiited. 

After getting together a remarkable collection 
of Indians, cowboys, Indian ponies, stage-coach 
drivers, and other typical denizens of my own 

314 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 315 

country under canvas I found myself almost im- 
mediately prosperous. 

We showed in the principal cities of the country, 
and everywhere the novelty of the exhibition drew 
great crowds. As owner and principal actor in 
the enterprise I met the leading citizens of the 
United States socially, and never lost an oppor- 
tunity to "talk up" the Western country, which 
I believed to have a wonderful future. I worked 
hard on the program of the entertainment, taking 
care to make it realistic in every detail. The 
wigwam village, the Lidian war-dance, the chant 
of the Great Spirit as it was sung on the Plains, 
the rise and fall of the famous tribes, were all 
pictured accurately. 

It was not an easy thing to do. Sometimes I 
had to send men on journeys of more than a hun- 
dred miles to get the right kind of war-bonnets, 
or to make correct copies of the tepees peculiar 
to a particular tribe. It was my effort, in de- 
picting the West, to depict it as it was. I was 
much gratified in after years to find that scientists 
who had carefully studied the Indians, their tra- 
ditions and habits, gave me credit for making 
very valuable contributions to the sum of human 
knowledge of the American native. 

The first presentation of my show was given 
in May, 1883, at Omaha, which I had then chosen 
as my home. From there we made our first sum- 
mer tour, visiting practically every important city 
in the country. 

For my grand entrance I made a spectacle which 



316 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

comprised the most picturesque features of West- 
ern life. Sioux, Arapahoes, Brules, and Chey- 
ennes in war-paint and feathers led the van, 
shrieking their war-whoops and waving the 
weapons with which they were armed in a man- 
ner to inspire both terror and admiration in the 
tenderfoot audience. 

Next came cowboys and soldiers, all clad 
exactly as they were when engaged in their 
campaigns against the Indians, and lumbering 
along in the rear were the old stage-coaches 
which carried the settlers to the West in the 
days before the railroad made the journey easy 
and pleasant. 

I am sure the people enjoyed this spectacle, 
for they flocked in crowds to see it. I know I 
enjoyed it. There was never a day when, look- 
ing back over the red and white men in my 
cavalcade, I did not know the thrill of the 
trail, and feel a little sorry that my Western 
adventures would thereafter have to be lived in 
spectacles. 

Without desiring to dim the glory of any indi- 
vidual I can truthfully state that the expression 
*' rough riders," which afterward became so fa- 
mous, was my own coinage. As I rode out at the 
front of my parade I would bow to the audience, 
circled about on the circus benches, and shout 
at the top of my voice : 

''Ladies and gentlemen, permit me to introduce 
you to the rough riders of the world ! ' ' 

For three years we toured the United States 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 317 

with great success. One day an Englishman, 
whose name I never learned, came to see me after 
the show. 

''That is a wonderful performance," he told 
me. "Here in America it meets with great ap- 
preciation, but you have no idea what a sensa- 
tion it would be in the Old World, where such 
things are unheard of." 

That set me to thinking. Li a few days, after 
spending hours together considering the matter, 
I had made up my mind that Europe should have 
an opportunity to study America as nearly at 
first-hand as possible through the medium of my 
entertainment. 

Details were soon arranged. Li March, 
1886, I chartered the steamer State of Nebraska, 
loaded my Indians, cowboys, horses, and stage- 
coaches on board, and set sail for another con- 
tinent. 

It was a strange voyage. The Indians had 
never been to sea before, and had never dreamed 
that such an expanse of water existed on the 
planet. They would stand at the rail, after the 
first days of seasickness were over, gazing out 
across the waves, and trying to descry something 
that looked like land, or a tree, or anything that 
seemed familiar and like home. Then they would 
shake their heads disconsolately and go below, 
to brood and muse and be an extremely unhappy 
and forlorn lot of savages. The joy that seized 
them when at last they came in sight of land, 
and were assured that we did not intend to keep 



318 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

on sailing till we fell over the edge of the earth, 
was something worth looking at. 

At Gravesend we sighted a tug flying the Amer- 
ican colors, and when the band on board responded 
to our cheers with "The Star-Spangled Banner" 
even the Indians tried to sing. Our band replied 
with ''Yankee Doodle," and as we moved toward 
port there was more noise on board than I had 
ever heard in any battle on the Plains. 

When the landing was made the members of the 
party were sent in special coaches to London. 
Crowds stared at us from every station. The 
guards on the train were a little afraid of the 
solemn and surly-looking Indians, but they were 
a friendly and jovial crowd, and when they had 
recovered from their own fright at the strange 
surroundings they were soon on good terms with 
the Britishers. 

Major John M. Burke, who was my lifetime 
associate in the show business, had made all ar- 
rangements for housing the big troupe. We went 
to work at our leisure with our preparations to 
astonish the British public, and succeeded beyond 
our wildest dreams. The big London amphithea- 
ter, a third of a mile in circumference, was just 
the place for such an exhibition. The artist's 
brush was employed on lavish scale to repro- 
duce the scenery of the Western Plains. I was 
busy for many days with preparations, and when 
our spectacle was finally given it was received 
with such a burst of enthusiasm as I had never 
witnessed anywhere. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 319 

The show began, after the grand entry, witli 
the hour of dawn on the Plains. Wild animals 
were scattered about. Within their tents were 
the Lidians sleeping. As the dawn deepened the 
Indians came out of their tents and went through 
one of their solemn and impressive war-dances. 
While this was going on the British audience held 
its breath. You could have heard a whisper in 
ahnost any part of the arena. 

Then in came a courier to announce the neigh- 
borhood of a hostile tribe. Instantly there was a 
wild scramble for mounts and weapons. The en- 
emy rushed in, and for ten minutes there was a 
sham battle which filled the place with noise and 
confusion. This battle was copied as exactly as 
it could be copied from one of the scrimmages in 
which I had taken part in my first days as a scout. 
Then we gave them a buffalo hunt, in which I had 
a hand, and did a little fancy shooting. As a finish 
there was a Wild Western cyclone, and a whole 
Indian village was blown out of existence for the 
delectation of the English audience. 

The initial performance was given before the 
Prince and Princess of Wales, afterward King 
Edward and his Queen, and their suite. At the 
close of the program the Prince and Princess, at 
their own request, were introduced to all the lead- 
ing members of the company, including many of 
the Indians. When the cowgirls of the show were 
presented to the Princess they stepped forward 
and offered their hands, which were taken and 
weU shaken in true democratic fashion. 



320 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

Red Shirt, the most important chief in the out- 
fit, was highly pleased when he learned that a 
princess was to visit him in his camp. He had 
the Indian gift of oratory, and he replied to her 
greeting with a long and eloquent speech, in 
which his gestures, if not his words, expressed 
plainly the honor he felt in receiving so distin- 
guished a lady. The fact that he referred to 
Alexandria as a squaw did not seem to mar her 
enjoyment. 

That the Prince was really pleased with the ex- 
hibition was shown by the fact that he made an 
immediate report of it to his mother. Shortly 
thereafter I received a command from Queen 
Victoria to appear before her. 

This troubled me a good deal — not that I was 
not more than eager to obey this flattering com- 
mand, but that I was totally at a loss how to take 
my show to any of the great residences occupied 
by Her Majesty. 

Finally, after many cautious inquiries, I dis- 
covered that she would be willing to visit the show 
if a special box was prepared for her. This we 
did to the best of our ability. The box was placed 
upon a dais covered with crimson velvet and hand- 
somely decorated. When the Queen arrived I met 
her at the door of the box, with my sombrero in 
my hand and welcomed her to ''the Wild West of 
America." 

One of the first acts in the performance was 
to carry the flag to the front. This was done 
by a soldier. Walking around the arena, he 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 321 

offered the Stars and Stripes as an emblem of 
the friendship of America to all the world. On 
this occasion he carried the flag directly to the 
royal box, and dipped it three times before the 
Queen. 

Absolute silence fell over the great throng. 
Then the Queen rose and saluted the flag with a 
bow, her suite following her example. There 
was a wild cheer from everyone in the show, 
Lidians included, and soon all the audience was 
on its feet, cheering and waving flags and hand- 
kerchiefs. 

This gave us a fine start and we never put on 
a better performance. When it was all over Her 
Majesty sent for me, and paid me many com- 
pliments as well as to my country and the West. 
I found her a most gracious and charming woman, 
with none of the haughtiness which I had supposed 
was inseparable from a person of such exalted 
rank. My subsequent experiences with royalty 
convinced me that there is more real democracy 
among the rulers of the countries of Europe than 
you will find among the petty officials of a 
village. 

It was interesting to watch old Eed Shirt when 
he was presented to the Queen. He clearly felt 
that this was a ceremony between one ruler and 
another, and the dignity with which he went 
through the introduction was wonderful to behold. 
One would have thought to watch him that most 
of his life was spent in introductions to kings and 
queens, and that he was really a little bored with 



322 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

the effort required to go through with them. A 
second command from the Queen resulted in an 
exhibition before a number of her royal guests, 
including the Kings of Saxony, Denmark, and 
Greece, the Queen of the Belgians, and the Crown 
Prince of Austria. 

The Deadwood coach, one of the features of 
the show, was of particular interest to my royal 
guests. This was a coach with a history. It was 
built in Concord, N. H., and sent by water to San 
Francisco to run over a route infested with road- 
agents. A number of times it was held up and 
robbed. Finally, both driver and passengers were 
killed and the coach abandoned on the trail. It 
remained for a long time a derelict, but was after- 
ward brought into San Francisco by an old stage- 
driver and placed on the Overland trail. 

As it worked its way East over the Overland 
route its old luck held steadily. Again were driver 
and passengers massacred; again it was aban- 
doned. At last, when it was ''hoodooed" all 
over the West and no independent driver or 
company would have anything to do with it I 
discovered it, bought it, and used it for my 
show. 

One of the incidents of my program, as all who 
have seen it will remember, was an Indian attack 
on this coach. The royal visitors wanted a real 
taste of Western life — insisted on it, in fact, and 
the Kings of Denmark, Greece, Saxony, and the 
Crown Prince of Austria climbed to the box with 
me. 




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BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 323 

I had secretly instructed the Indians to throw 
a little real energy into their pursuit of the coach, 
and they followed my instructions rather more 
completely than I expected. The coach was sur- 
rounded by a demoniac band of shooting and 
shouting Indians. Blank cartridges were dis- 
charged at perilously close proximity to the rulers 
of four great nations. Looking around to quiet 
my followers, I saw that the guests of the occa- 
sion were a trifle pale, but they were all of them 
game, and came out of the affair far less scared 
than were the absolutely terrified members of 
the royal suites, who sat in their boxes and wrung 
their hands in wild alarm. 

In recognition of this performance the Prince 
of Wales sent me a souvenir consisting of a feath- 
ered crest, outlined in diamonds, with the words 
**Ich dien" worked in jewels underneath. A note 
in the Prince's own hand expressed the pleasure 
of his guests in the entertainment I had provided 
for them. 

After a tour of the principal cities we returned 
to America, proud of our success, and well re- 
warded in purse for our effort. 

The welcome to America was almost as elab- 
orate as that from England. I quote from the 
description of it printed in the New York 
World: 

The harbor probably has never witnessed a more picturesque 
scene than that of yesterday, when the Persian Monarch steamed 
up from Quarantine. Buffalo Bill stood on the captain's bridge, 
his tall and striking figure clearly outlined, and his long hair 



324 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

waving in the wind; the gaily painted and blanketed Indians 
leaned over the ship's rail; the flags of all nations fluttered 
from the masts and connecting cables. The cowboy band played 
"Yankee Doodle" with a vim and enthusiasm which faintly indi- 
cated the joy felt by everybody connected with the "Wild West" 
over the sight of home. 

Shortly after my arrival I was much pleased 
by the receipt of the following letter : 

Fifth Aventjk Hotel, New Yobk. 
Colonel Wm. F. Cody: 

Dear Sir — In common with all your countrymen, I want to 
let you know that I am not only gratified but proud of your 
management and success. So far as I can make out, you have 
been modest, graceful, and dignified in all you have done to 
illustrate the history of civilization on this continent during the 
past century. I am especially pleased with the compliment paid 
you by the Prince of Wales, who rode with you in the Deadwood 
coach while it was attacked by Indians and rescued by cowboys. 
Such things did occur in our days, but they never will again. 

As nearly as I can estimate, there were in 1865 about nine 
and one-half million of buffaloes on the Plains between the 
Missouri River and the Rocky Mountains; all are now gone, 
killed for their meat, their skins, and their bones. This seems 
like desecration, cruelty, and murder, yet they have been re- 
placed by twice as many cattle. At that date there were about 
165,000 Pawnees, Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes, who de- 
pended upon these buffaloes for their yearly food. They, too, 
have gone, but they have been replaced by twice or thrice as 
many white men and women, who have made the earth to 
blossom as the rose, and who can be counted, taxed, and gov- 
erned by the laws of Nature and civilization. This change has 
been salutary, and will go on to the end. Y"ou have caught one 
epoch of this country's history, and have illustrated it in the 
very heart of the modern world — London — and I want you to 
feel that on this side of the water we appreciate it. 

This drama must end; days, years, and centuries follow fast; 
even the drama of civilization must have an end. All I aim 
to accomplish on this sheet of paper is to assure you that I 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 325 

fiilly recognize your work. The presence of the Queen, the 
beautiful Princess of Wales, the Prince, and the British public 
are marks of favor which reflect back on America sparks of 
light which illuminate many a house and cabin in the land 
■where once you guided me honestly and faithfully, in 1865-66, 
from Fort Riley to Kearney, in Kansas and Nebraska. 

Sincerely your friend, 

W. T. Shebman. 

Our next descent on Europe "^as made in the 
steamer Persian Motmrch, whicli was again char- 
tered. This time our destination was France. The 
Parisians received the show with as much favor 
as had the Londoners. 

Everything American became the fad during 
our stay. Fashionable young men bought Ameri- 
can and Mexican saddles for their rides in the 
Bois. Cowboy hats appeared everywhere on the 
street. There was a great cry for stories of the 
Plains and all the books that could be found that 
dealt with the West were translated into the 
French language. Eelics from the Plains and 
mountains, bows, moccasins, and Indian baskets, 
sold like hot cakes in the souvenir stores. 

While in the city I accepted an invitation from 
Eosa Bonheur to visit her at her superb chateau. 
In return I extended her the freedom of the show, 
and she made many studies from life of the fine 
animals I had brought over with me. She also 
painted a portrait of me on my favorite horse — 
a picture which I immediately sent home to my 
wife. 

Our sojourn in Eome was lively with incident. 
The Prince of Simonetta, who visited the show, 



326 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STOEY 

declared that lie had some wild horses in his stable 
which no cowboy could ride. The challenge was 
promptly taken up by some of the dare-devils in 
my party. That the horses might not run amuck 
and injure anyone, special booths were erected 
in the show arena, where the trial was to be 
made. 

The greatest enthusiasm was manifested by the 
Romans in the performance, and it was clear to 
me that most of them looked eagerly forward to 
the mortal injury of some of the members of my 
company. The Latin delight in sports like those 
of the old Eoman arena had by no means died 
out. 

When the horses were loosed in the ring they 
sprang into the air, snorted, kicked up their heels, 
and plainly defied any of the cowboys to do so 
much as to lay a hand on them. But in less time 
than I can tell it the plainsmen had sent their 
lassos hurtling through the air, and the horses 
discovered that they had met their masters. The 
audience, always strong for the winners, forgot 
their disappointment in the absence of fatalities, 
and howled with delight as the cowboys, one after 
another, mounted the fractious horses and trotted 
them submissively about the arena. We closed 
this tour of Europe, which was successful to the 
end, with a second visit to England. 

I have now come to the end of my story. It is 
a story of ''The Great West that Was," a West 
that is gone forever. 



BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 327 

All IDT interests are stiU with the "West — the 
modem West. I have a number of homes there, 
the one I love best being in the wonderful Big 
Horn Valley, which I hope one day to see one 
of the garden spots of the world. 

Li concluding, I want to express the hope that 
the dealings of this Government of ours with the 
Indians will always be just and fair. They were 
the inheritors of the land that we live in. They 
were not capable of developing it, or of reaUy 
appreciating its possibilities, but they owned it 
when the "White Man came, and the "White Man 
took it away from them. It was natural that 
thev should resist. It was natural that thev em- 
ployed the only means of warfare known to them 
against those whom they regarded as usurpers. 
It was our business, as scouts, to be continually 
on the wari^ath against them when they com- 
mitted depredations. But no scout ever hated 
the Indians in general. 

There have been times when the Government 
policy toward the Indians has been unwise and 
unjust. That time, I trust, has passed forever. 
There are still many thousand Indians in the coun- 
try, most of them engaged in agricultural pur- 
suits. Indian blood has added a certain rugged 
strength to the characters of many of our "Western 
citizens. At least two United States Senators are 
part Indian, and proud of it. 

The Indian makes a good citizen, a good farmer, 
a good soldier. He is a real American, and all 
those of uc who have come to share with him 



328 BUFFALO BILL'S OWN STORY 

the great land that was his heritage should do 
their share toward seeing that he is dealt with 
justly and fairly, and that his rights and liberties 
are never infringed by the scheming politician 
or the short-sighted administration of law. 



THE END 



